


A Spoonful of Sugar

by Aedemiel



Series: Gracelight [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 74,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aedemiel/pseuds/Aedemiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After freeing Cas from Rowena's spell, the boys investigate one of Metatron's side projects and Sam starts having strange dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This prologue takes place sometime in S9 between Bloodlines (E20) and King of the Damned (E21)

_Sammy…_

The voice was so faint, Sam wasn’t sure if he was even hearing it, or if it was just in his head. He turned his flashlight down the unlit corridor of the warehouse where he and Dean had come to investigate...something. Sam couldn’t remember what exactly, or where Dean had gone, though he was sure the voice he heard was not his brother. At the end of the corridor he could now see a faint yellow-orange light flickering and he frowned. Candlelight? Or fire?

He moved cautiously down the trash-strewn, concrete hallway that smelled of damp and a faint scent of urine, keeping his gun and flashlight carefully balanced and straining to hear any further sounds. A skittering sound behind him had him turning his flashlight on a pair of startled rats attacking the remains of an pizza box. He kept on moving, carefully placing each foot to keep sound to a minimum. As he got closer to the source of the light, he could hear a crackling sound and labored breathing. The rusted metal door in front of him was partially ajar, and he pushed it open gently with one foot, wincing at the indignant squeal of the hinges.

The large room behind the door was mostly empty save for a ring of fire in the center. Inside the flaming circle lay a human-looking figure wrapped in a ragged gray blanket with their back to the door, curled in a fetal position. Sam’s forehead creased in confusion - was this holy oil? Who was trapped inside? But he couldn’t see the figure clearly enough. He might have to break the circle in order to find out who this was, and he wasn’t going to do that without Dean present in case the prisoner was unfriendly.

He turned to go find his brother, when an almighty crash startled him. Flailing in shock, Sam fought against an unseen attacker, which turned out to be a sheet and his pillow. He stared around his room in confusion, the strange dream fading under the onslaught of cursing coming from somewhere in the bunker. Sighing, he rose and went to find out what new chaos had descended.

 

 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas introduces Project 7125 and Sam's dreams continue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs during the events of S11E03 The Bad Seed and just before S11E04 Baby

“There’s another thing,” Castiel said wearily, fishing inside his overcoat with difficulty as the shackles restricted his movement. “Hannah had this notebook that apparently belonged to Metatron and I think she was planning to ask me about it.” He pulled out a thin blue notebook labeled Project 7125 and handed it to Sam. Inside, were notes scribbled in tiny spidery writing, almost illegible. Sam frowned and began to flick through the pages. As well as the writing, there were sketches of Enochian sigils and on the last page in another hand, bolder and easier to read, was a list.

“Wing feather, blade, Grace anchor” he read aloud. “What is this?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel replied, “but I think it has something to do with resurrection. Metatron does have the angel tablet after all.” He shivered.

Sam and Dean shared a look before returning their attention to Castiel.

“Who was he trying to resurrect?” Sam asked carefully. Castiel shook his head.

“I’m not sure he was trying to resurrect anyone in particular. Although if he were, there are plenty of candidates. But I thought it might have been more along the lines of an insurance policy.” Castiel groaned suddenly, as the spell began to dig its claws into him once again. Dean grabbed the notebook and pushed it out of reach.

“A mystery for another time,” he said firmly. “Right now we need to focus on finding Rowena.”

 

******

 

Dean took a long draw from the beer bottle in front of him, pushing the empty ones aside. Castiel had disappeared off somewhere into the bunker and Sam had gone off to his room, muttering something about needing some headspace. Dean pressed the cold bottle to his aching jaw, wondering if he should really have rejected Cas’ offer to heal the damage he had done while cursed by Rowena’s spell. But he’d meant what he’d said, he had this coming after the beat down he’d laid on Cas while under the influence of the Mark of Cain. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the blue notebook Cas had found on Hannah’s vessel and pulled it over curiously.

Inside, he found the spidery notes no more legible than Sam had, but some of the sigils sketched inside looked familiar, yet not. He frowned, trying to recall where he had seen them, or signs like them before. But further insight proved elusive, and really what was the point in wondering about it when he could ask Cas about them tomorrow? With that thought, he finished the last of the beer in his bottle and lumbered off to bed.

 

******

_Sammy…_

It was the voice again, still so faint, Sam couldn’t tell if it was even real. He turned his flashlight left and right, recognizing the unlit warehouse corridor as the same one from his dream last week. He and Dean had come to investigate it but Sam still couldn’t remember exactly why they were there, or why they had split up. He crept quietly down the hallway, avoiding the piles of garbage and occasional curious rodents, towards the flickering yellow-orange light. Maybe this time he would see more of who was trapped in the holy oil prison.

This time, as he got closer to the source of the light, he could hear the crackling of the fire more clearly and the labored breathing sound was louder than before. The rusted metal door in front of him was open, and the large room behind the door was as empty as his last visit. The flaming circle with its mystery occupant did not seem to be burning as ferociously as last time and Sam could see more details - collar length brown or red-brown hair, and most likely male judging by the body shape.

_Sammy..._

Sam jerked in surprise, he’d definitely not heard that with his ears. Where the hell was Dean?

“Hello?” he whispered, unwilling to disturb the relative quiet. The prisoner twitched, and a trembling hand emerged from the blanket. Sam stepped closer, unable to stop himself from craning forward to try and see the prisoner’s face. A sudden bright flash seared his retinas and when it cleared he was bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily.

 

*********

 

The next morning Dean found Cas in the kitchen, staring at an egg beater with a puzzled expression. He looked up at Dean’s entrance and waved the object at him.

“What is this for? It does not look like a weapon.” Cas asked, his frown deepening. Dean grinned.

“It’s a egg beater. For beating eggs. You know, for omelets and stuff like that.” Dean reached out to take it from Cas and the angel stepped back, holding it out of reach. Dean leveled a look at him and Cas meekly handed it over. He tossed the utensil in a drawer, rubbed at his eyes and opened the fridge, perusing the meager contents when he heard Sam shuffle in.

“Morning, Cas.” Sam yawned and Dean turned to see Cas staring at Sam in a way that made him rather uncomfortable. Sam was wearing pyjama bottoms, but no shirt and Cas’ attention was riveted on Sam’s bare chest. Dean grimaced in irritation.

“Must you walk around half naked Sammy?” he asked, giving the angel a swift elbow to the ribs that Cas ignored. Sam dragged a hand through his hair, and shot his brother an amused look.

Cas stalked towards Sam with purpose and Sam backed up, surprised as Cas poked him in the chest, at a spot just below his anti-posession tattoo.

“How long have you had that scar?” the angel demanded. Sam blinked and looked down to where Cas was pointing. There was a small, strangely shaped red scar there, sort of like a circle within a square with four points radiating outwards. Dean gaped at both of them, Sam shook his head.

“I don’t remember, Cas. A long time I think, but I don’t remember it being so visible.” He shrugged. Cas looked perturbed for a moment before his expression wiped clean.

“It’s probably nothing. Sorry, Sam.” The angel rumbled and then turned away and left the room. Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged again and then focused his attention on the coffee machine.

 

A dose of caffeine and a slightly stale bagel later, Sam carried his laptop into the library. Sitting on the table was the blue notebook from yesterday. Sam frowned at it, recalling what Cas had said the previous day. When Cas came into the room shadowing Dean, Sam waved at the notebook in front of him.

“You said you thought this Project 7125 was about resurrection and an insurance policy - did you want to explain what you meant? It wasn’t exactly a good time while you were still dealing with Rowena’s spell.”

The angel nodded and sat in a chair opposite Sam, pulling the notebook towards himself thoughtfully.

“Angel resurrection is unbelievably rare, unheard of even.” He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Almost unheard of, anyway. But in the early days of the first war, a way to bring an angel back who fell in battle was devised, but it required a ritual to be performed before the angel’s death. There’s only a small window of time when the angel can be resurrected and my understanding is that it was not always successful. Eventually, it was decided that knowledge of this ritual was too problematic, that nobody wanted Lucifer to be able to resurrect himself after the Apocalypse, and so all mentions of angel resurrection were removed from documents and tablets, except of course from the angel tablet, which had already been hidden.” Cas flicked through the sigil sketches idly, lost in thought for a moment.

“So you think Metatron planned to perform this ritual?” Sam asked, putting the pieces together. “That’s what you meant by insurance policy.” Cas nodded, frowning.

Well, that’s just great!” Dean exclaimed. “An unkillable douchebag.” Sam watched Cas’ expression closely.

“What is it?” he asked, certain there was more the angel wasn’t saying.

“Well, this writing is hard to read.”

Dean snorted derisively. “Imagine that, the Scribe of God has horrible handwriting.”

“It’s not Metatron’s writing,” Cas corrected. “Except for the list at the back.”

“So whose is it?” Sam asked, a cold feeling trickling down his spine as Cas hesitated.

“Gadreel’s.” Cas looked away. “He’s using a lot of strange metaphors I do not understand. But it says here they were experimenting, and that the results of the experiments were...disturbing.”

“Disturbing how?” Dean growled. Cas looked up and held his gaze.

“It seems the process is complicated. And if done incorrectly, the resurrected angel is either damaged or insane.” Cas made a small gesture neither Winchester understood.

“I’m not liking the sound of this, Cas.” Sam said as Cas returned his attention to the the notebook.

“He convinced, forced or tricked angels into performing the ritual, and then killed them. When the resurrection was performed, it only worked for a small number of the angels who had undergone the ritual. And for the ones who were resurrected, they came back with only a trace of their Grace intact and nearly all of them were mad.” Cas leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Dean again. “Only two angels did not come back crazy. Urhel seemed sane at first. But over the course of six weeks, his grip on reality slowly slipped and eventually Metatron had him..it says here neutralized.”

“Killed?” Sam asked. Cas shook his head.

“I don’t know. The other angel, Gadreel never uses their name and I get the impression that this angel was not killed by Metatron, but had been killed elsewhere at another time.“

“Wait,” Dean interjected. “I thought you had to perform this ritual beforehand. The super secret ritual nobody knew about because someone erased it.” Cas nodded.

“That’s part of what is so strange. But whoever they were, they came back sane, albeit with virtually no Grace remaining.”

“So, what happened to this unnamed angel?” Sam asked, as Cas flipped through the notes again.

“It’s unclear,” the angel returned. He waved a hand at the notes in frustration. “I think he might still be alive, but imprisoned.” Sam exchanged a puzzled look with his brother.

“Why would he imprison a weak, resurrected angel?” Dean stood up and began pacing. Cas watched him go back and forth.

“To prevent his or her grace returning? Maybe this angel is a threat?” Sam suggested. Cas seemed to be considering the idea but Dean shook his head.

“So then, why resurrect an angel that would be a threat? That doesn’t make any sense.” Sam threw up his hands.

“Does it matter? Cas, does this help us find Metatron? Or figure out what he plans to do?” Cas nodded, but apparently not in answer to Sam’s question. His vision was fixed on a distant point behind Sam. Dean flopped back into a chair and waved a hand at Sam’s laptop, lying forgotten by his elbow.

“Any other leads?” he asked, eyeing a distracted Cas. Sam shook his head.

“On Metatron, nothing. He probably ditched Cas’ crappy car.” He looked at Cas with a grin, hoping to needle the angel but Cas was still locked in his own thoughts. “Nothing on the Darkness or Amara or Crowley. I think he’s gone to ground for now. One possible routine job though. I got a standard salt-and-burn in San Jose, was going to put Davey on it but we can check it out if you want.” Dean wrinkled his nose at the mention of Davey, a hunter they’d met a few years ago who reminded Sam of Rufus. Davey and Dean had not gotten along, and Sam tried not to bring the guy up in conversation. Dean nodded.

“Nah, let Davey have it. I can’t be bothered with his bullshit,” Dean groaned. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” Sam hedged.

“Fine.” Dean got up from the table. “Baby needs a wash anyway.”

 

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs after S11E03 "Baby".

 

Cas was waiting for them in the garage when Dean finally limped the Impala inside. The journey back to the bunker had been rough, but Baby had got them home as she always did. Sam wondered how long he had been standing there. He climbed out first and Cas strode up to him without preamble, taking in his injuries with one glance before touching two fingers to Sam’s forehead and healing him. Sam smiled gratefully.

“Thanks, Cas.” He looked over his shoulder at Dean, who was rifling through the trunk of the car. He pointed his chin in Dean’s direction as he told the angel, “Don’t take no for an answer.” Cas nodded and moved silently to stand at Dean’s side. Sam grinned as he watched Dean pull his duffel from the trunk and start at Cas’ proximity. But instead of bitching about it as Sam expected, Dean gave Cas a shy smile that looked really weird on his face. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that exact expression on his brother before and began to get the uncomfortable feeling he was intruding on a private moment. The two of them just stood there, looking at each other as though nothing else in the world existed. Cas tentatively lifted his hand and placed it on Dean’s shoulder, fitting it right over the mark his hand had left when he pulled Dean from Hell all those years ago. His other hand he lifted to Dean’s face, cupping his chin and Sam figured it was time to make a tactful withdrawal.

Dean stared at Cas, riveted to the spot by that intense gaze. He didn’t even balk at the intimacy of the touch of Cas’ hand to his jaw. Cas leaned forward and for a wild moment, Dean was certain he was going to kiss him. Which he absolutely did not want to happen, so he was definitely _not_ disappointed when instead Cas shifted to place his mouth near Dean’s ear. _Dammit_.

“We need to talk. Not here, away from the bunker. Away from Sam.” Cas said in a low voice and Dean fought to suppress a shiver as Cas lips brushed his ear. When the angel stood upright again, Dean swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. Cas held his gaze again and he felt the warm tingly feeling of Cas’ Grace as was healed. It was really far too warm in the garage, and this vaguely panicked fluttery feeling in his chest was probably just tiredness. Nonetheless, Dean was torn between relief and feeling bereft when Cas stepped back and he gulped again as the angel gave him a slight smile before turning and leaving the garage without a word.

Dean sagged against Baby, patting her bumper feebly. It had been a long, difficult drive and that was why he was weak at the knees. _No other reason_.

 

**********

 

The next morning, Sam chewed thoughtfully at the omelette Dean had presented to him upon emerging from his room and watched his brother as he carefully avoided making eye contact with either him or Cas. Something was up, no doubt, but Sam was not yet concerned enough to push the matter. That strange moment between them in the garage had not been the first to make Sam feel like a third wheel, but there had been a different quality to it that, if it had not seemed totally insane, Sam would have swore Cas had done it deliberately. Right now, Cas seemed sanguine at Dean’s mood, buried deep in an enormous and ancient looking tome. Sam forced himself to turn his attention to his laptop, where he was following a strange report in the Baltimore Sun about a spate of mysterious fires.

“Anything?” Dean asked, without raising his eyes above his plate. Sam shook his head.

“Not really. I’m following this story in Baltimore about unsolved house fires but it’s way too thin to follow up just yet. Nothing else is on the radar - it’s like Amara just disappeared off the face of the earth. I mean, you’d think people turning up soulless would attract attention but I’ve got nothing. Metatron’s still in the wind. That’s it.”

“Good.” Dean said. Sam’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I mean, OK. So, I gotta get some parts for the Impala - the radiator’s totally busted and I think the cylinder head gasket needs replaced, plus a few other things. There’s a place in Little Rock I know, owner’s a hunter and him and Bobby used to deal from time to time. I called him last night and he said he’s got what I need so I figured I’d take one of the other cars and take a ride down there.” Sam gaped at Dean’s sudden, almost breathless talkativeness and his brother at least had the grace to flush slightly. Dean turned his attention to Cas, who had stopped reading when he had started speaking, and said with studied casualness.

”Fancy a road trip? Get out of the bunker for a few hours?”

“I’m sure Sam would be happy to accompany you,” the angel replied. Sam opened his mouth to agree, but when he saw Dean almost imperceptibly shake his head, decided to give his brother a break for once.

“Sorry, Dean,”, he said, trying not to smile at his brother’s relief that Sam had picked up on his message. “I really wanna dig into this Baltimore story a bit more.” Dean focused back on Cas.

“I am quite involved in this translation…” Cas began and Dean threw up his hands in irritation.

“Fine. You two sit here and go moldy.” With that he stormed out of the room. Cas looked helplessly at Sam.

“Go after him.” Sam advised.

“I do not understand why he wants me to accompany him.” Cas replied.

“Sometimes friends just want to spend time together, you know?” Sam said, then added slyly, “You _are_ friends after all, aren’t you?” Cas stilled for a moment, and then dashed out of the room in pursuit of Dean.

 

************

 

The first half hour of the drive was spent in uncomfortable silence and Cas was beginning to doubt the wisdom of following Sam’s advice. He opened his mouth to say something to break the mood but Dean beat him to it.

“So, you wanted to talk.” His voice was curt, and Cas wondered how he was going to smooth this over because there was no way Dean was going to listen in his current mood.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I did not realize you were attempting to give us this space to have the conversation I requested.” Dean flicked a glance at him.

“Yeah, well. Subtlety ain’t a vice for either of us, Cas.” Dean’s tone was softer and his grip on the steering wheel had relaxed Cas noticed thankfully. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“I’ve been working extensively on Gadreel’s notebook about Metatron’s resurrection project.” Cas said hesitantly. When Dean did not tense at this, he continued. “I’ve been reading more about the ritual and I found something out that I, well…” he broke off and looked away for a moment. Dean allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts. Cas was becoming visibly upset, a rare thing for the normally stoic angel, and Dean wondered if having this conversation in the car was such a great idea. There was an abandoned diner up ahead and perhaps it would be better to stop and discuss whatever had Cas so unhappy. He swung the car into the crumbling parking lot and once they had stopped, opened the door and got out to stretch his legs. Cas climbed out of the car and leaned against the fender, eyes distant. Dean approached him carefully and settled against the passenger door.

“It’s about the Grace anchor referred to in the notebook.” Cas explained, a tense note threaded through his voice. “A Grace anchor is when an angel lodges a small piece of their Grace within another angel. We used to use them for secret long distance communication because messages sent through the anchor cannot not be overheard. Occasionally they were used with selected humans to allow communication between the angel and their charge. But their use was never widespread and honestly the risks outweighed the benefits.”

“Risks?” Dean asked.

“Grace anchoring is powerful. Done wrong, the donor or the recipient can go gradually insane. With humans, you’re tethering Grace to a soul rather than another Grace, so there’s the additional risk that the angel can become...overly attached to their charge.” There was a dusting of pink on Cas’ cheeks and Dean suddenly had a very bad feeling about where this was going.

“So what are you telling me, Cas?” he rasped, his throat dry. _Oh, God_.

“It’s Sam.” Cas told him, and Dean felt light-headed for a moment, his vision swimming. That was not what he had been expecting Cas to say and now he felt wrongfooted. He gritted his teeth at the swirl of emotion that was twisting his lungs into a knot.

“What about Sam?” he ground out, turning to face the angel and gripping his shoulders as he stared into Cas’ distressed face. Cas took a deep breath Dean knew he didn’t really need, but before he could demand that Cas stop stalling, the angel began speaking again.

“The scar on Sam’s chest that I was looking at a few days ago,” Cas held Dean’s gaze and mentally begged his father or whoever was listening, that Dean was going to be rational about this. “It’s the mark of a Grace anchor.” Dean staggered back, one hand clapped over his mouth as he just stared at Cas. The angel hunched his shoulders miserably.

“Whose is it?” Dean demanded, unable to control the sickening feeling in his stomach. His lungs were threatening to strangle him and spots began to appear in front of his eyes. Fear and fury and something else he did not want to name battled for dominance. “Is it yours?”

Cas visibly started, unable to process the torrent of emotion pouring from his...from Dean.

“Mine?” he returned, baffled. “No, of course not. Why would it be mine?” His confusion increased when he saw that his answer had actually mollified the older Winchester brother. “I don’t know who put it there. But with Sam, I can only come up with two candidates.” Dean grimaced as he struggled to regain some semblance of control.

“You mean Gadreel,” he surmised, his voice gravelly from strain. “Or Metatron?”

“Gadreel, yes. Metatron, no. We know from the notebook that Metatron had not chosen a Grace anchor while Sam was Gadreel’s host. No, the other candidate I was thinking of was…”

“Lucifer.” Dean interrupted. Cas nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground. It was obvious now that Dean thought about it, and it explained why Cas was so upset. And when Dean had thought Cas had meant, well...never mind that.  “Did Sam tell you about the dream he had in the car when we were driving to Oregon? And the vision of the cage he saw at the hospital where Amara was born?”

“Yes. The appearance of John Winchester as a young man made me think perhaps it was Michael sending those visions. But that really doesn’t make sense, Sam and Michael never had a connection. If it had been you, Dean, then that would have been different. But in Sam’s case, I really think Lucifer makes more sense.” Cas finally looked up and was relieved that Dean had managed to get a rein on his temper. Dean raked a hand through his hair and let out an explosive breath. He turned back towards the car.

“C’mon Cas. We’ve got a way to go and there’s not much we can do stood around in an empty parking lot.” Cas pushed himself away from the vehicle and opened the passenger door.

“What do you want to tell Sam?” Cas asked once he had climbed back into the car. Dean looked at him solemnly.

“We swore we were done keeping secrets from each other.” he said at last. “Not that you didn’t do the right thing, talking to me about this first.” he added at Cas’ guilty look. “But, what do we tell him at this stage? We don’t know anything.” Dean sighed.

“Do you want me to keep quiet?” Cas asked, his voice so low Dean could hardly hear him. He shook his head.

“No, I guess not. But let’s pick the right moment. And in the meantime, if you can find any hint of whether this really is Lucifer, that would help.” Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and then cranked the engine. “I don’t want to freak the kid out unnecessarily. Can the anchor be removed?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anyone doing so, but then I don’t know of many occasions when a Grace anchor has been formed with a human at all.” Cas gazed out of the window as Dean steered the car out of the lot and back on the road. Dean glanced at the angel.

“But you know of some, right? Any of them recent enough that the human is still around?” Cas didn’t turn towards Dean, but seemed to shrink in the seat. Dean had to strain to hear him when he whispered.

“Just one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write each chapter around each episode as it airs, but I'm a little behind. Sorry! This will eventually diverge from canon and become an AU at some point, when the plot is a bit more advanced.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas go on a road trip to Little Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place between S11E03 Baby and S11E04 Thin Lizzie

Sam stared at the computer, reading about the latest unexplained house fire. This one was in Dundalk, a small suburb of Baltimore about 4 miles from the previous fire. Sam chewed at his lip. Was this really a case? Even by Winchester standards it was unbelievably thin, but Sam couldn’t dismiss a nagging feeling that they really ought to check it out. He looked at the time and sighed. Dean and Cas would not be back until very late, so he’d be eating alone tonight. He dragged himself out of the chair and went to investigate the fridge.

The kitchen yielded little inspiration and Sam finally gave in and went in search of some car keys to one of the cars in the garage. A short drive took him into the nearest town, to a generic American chain restaurant where his face wouldn’t be remembered. There were better places to eat, locally owned and operated mom and pop places but he and Dean had agreed early on that becoming “regulars” at any of the local restaurants was not a good idea if they were to keep the location of the bunker under wraps. He gave the waitress a perfunctory smile as she flirted with him and ignored her hints about the fact he was dining alone. Once she had taken his order and fluttered off to the kitchen, Sam pulled out his laptop and connected to the restaurant Wi-Fi. The browser was still set to the website of the Dundalk Eagle newspaper, so Sam could see if any more details had emerged about the latest fire. The front page had been updated to read “Arsonist strikes again!”. So it seemed that the local fire department had decided it was arson after all. The interview with the Chief stated that they had evidence of an unknown accelerant, which Sam knew meant that the fire had spread too rapidly or in a particular pattern that made an accident unlikely, but that tests for gasoline and other typical accelerants used in deliberately set fires had come back negative. The photo under the headline showed a picture of a grieving middle-aged woman standing on a street corner. In the background of the photo, a few people were milling about and one man was walking furtively off to the left. Sam stared at the man and gasped. The photo was not focused on the man and the light was poor but it really looked like Metatron’s skulking form. Was he related to the fires? If so, why would he be setting ordinary people’s homes aflame and if not, what was he doing there? There was no help for it - when Dean got back they should go and take a look. Sam saved the picture onto his hard drive, in case the newspaper took it down later, and looked up to see his server with his salad. He closed the lid of the laptop and settled down to eat.

 

*********

 

Martin’s Auto-Parts and Salvage was a much smaller affair than Bobby’s had been but Martin specialized in American-made cars of the 1960’s and 1970’s and had frequently been a source of parts for the Impala in the past. Martin himself was a tall, heavy-set man with pale skin and greying blond hair, who walked with a noticeable limp and supported himself with an elaborately carved cane that seemed at odds with his plain clothes and bluff demeanor.

“Martin, long time no see, man,” Dean said by way of greeting.

“You’re looking well, boy,” Martin grinned. “Who’s yer friend?”

“Martin, this is Cas. Cas, Martin here is an old friend of Bobby’s”. Dean introduced. Martin held out his hand but Cas remained silent and motionless, until Dean elbowed the angel in the ribs. He grasped Martin’s hand briefly and mumbled a greeting. Martin didn’t seem to mind, though he gave the angel a curious look. Dean indicated the cane with a nod of his head.

“What happened to you? Don’t tell me a monster got the better of Martin Delaval?”

“Hah! No, it’s a lot more boring than that,” the older man snorted. “Gout, would you believe?”

“Nice cane, though,” Dean added. “Fancy.” Martin laughed.

“Not my style, you mean! Heh, boy, what you see here is a genuine family heirloom. Came from the old country.”

“Old country?” Dean asked, vaguely interested. Martin had rarely spoken of his family, all Dean knew was what Bobby had told him, like many hunters Martin had got into the business when a vamp killed his daughter, while she was away at college.

“England. My family come from the County of Northumberland, which is about as far north as you can go without running into Scotland. My mother met my father when he was stationed in Britain during WWII, and after the war they settled here in Little Rock, where he grew up. This was one of a number of heirlooms they brought with them.”

“Nice.” Dean said, not really sure what else to say.   

“I’ve got the radiator and head gasket you wanted. Is there anything else you need?” Martin beckoned Dean into the small workshop and Dean followed, leaving Cas to his thoughts in the middle of the yard.

 

After picking up a few additional items, he returned to find Cas unmoved from when they had left him. Martin grasped Dean’s shoulder and pointed at Cas with his chin.

“You sure you know what you’re doing there, boy?” Dean squinted at Martin, uncertain what he was getting at. “Angels are trouble.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Martin tapped his cane with a grin. “Not just a pretty face, this cane. She knows a lot.” He indicated carved runes that seemed to be glowing faintly. Martin squeezed Dean’s shoulder once and then released him. “Good to see you, man,” Dean said gruffly and shook his hand.

 

*********

 

Dean drove in silence, frustrated with the unresponsive angel in the passenger seat. After his cryptic reply to Dean’s question about other humans who had been Grace anchors for angels, Cas had said very little. He had barely spoken two words to Martin in Little Rock and his responses to Dean had gone downhill from single words to grunts and nods and now he would not answer at all. In truth, Dean was worried. Who was the human Cas knew who had served as a Grace anchor? Why did Cas not want to talk about them? Had something terrible happened to them? It can’t have been that bad, not if they were still alive. _Are you sure about that?_ That sounded suspiciously like Sam’s voice. Dean frowned. They had less than a quarter tank of gas, and he was getting hungry, so when a diner and gas station appeared ahead, he pulled into the lot and poked Cas in the shoulder.

“C’mon, man. Let’s get something to eat.” Cas didn’t reply but slowly got out of the car and slouched towards the diner, dragging his feet like a reluctant toddler. Dean rolled his eyes and tugged on the angel’s arm as they headed through the door. The diner was about half full and the server directed them to a booth at the back that actually seemed to afford a little privacy. Dean perused the menu and turned a charming smile on the tired-looking middle aged woman when she came to take their order.

“Coffee, and uh, the Classic Cheeseburger, fries, onion rings. Cas, do you want anything?” Dean didn’t hold out much hope of a reply and was surprised when Cas looked up.

“Coffee,” he rumbled before returning his gaze to the table top.

“Nothing to eat, honey?” the waitress prompted. Cas shook his head, but refused to be drawn further.

“He’s had kind of a bad day.” Dean offered by way of apology.

“Well, can I at least tempt you with a slice of our famous cherry pie?” She encouraged. Cas remained silent.

“Sure,” Dean said. “Two slices of pie would be awesome.”

“Okay.” She turned away and Dean watched his friend warily.

“Talk to me, Cas,” Dean said in a even tone. Getting angry would not make the angel more forthcoming and anyway, Dean wasn’t entirely sure this mood wasn’t somehow his fault. The angel’s shoulders quivered and his head dipped lower. Dean reached out to Cas in alarm but when he did so, Cas reared back, his eyes wild.

“Cas?” Dean asked, his voice low and gentle. “Did Rowena scam us? Is the spell coming back?” Cas shook his head and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

“I’m sorry, Dean.It won’t happen again.” He rested his arms on the table and stared at the salt for a moment, like it might contain the secrets of the universe.

“That’s not the point, Cas. The point is that I think I upset you, and I don’t know how to fix it. You know I hate the chick flick stuff but you’re my friend and it seems like you’re hurting. So I’m hurting too.” Cas gave a wan smile.

“I will tell you. I promise. But not now. I can’t...I can’t talk about this now.” He reached out suddenly and grasped Dean’s hand. “It won’t make any difference to what we do about Sam. I swear.” Cas’ hand was warm and dry and he was sliding his thumb along the back of Dean’s hand in a manner that Dean supposed was meant to be comforting. But the little lightning flashes of sensation as the thumb slid back and forth were anything but soothing and Dean soon found himself breathing harder. He stared at Cas, his eyes seemed bluer than ever and Dean had the oddest sensation, like he was on the edge of a cliff and staring down into the roiling ocean.

The waitress chose that moment to re-appear with Dean’s burger and she slapped it down on the table rather heavily, her face shaded with contempt. Dean withdrew his hand from Cas’, though not without a slide of his fingers across Cas palm, to make sure he understood that Dean was not caving to the server’s disapproval. Dean eyed the waitress’ hasty retreat with irritation. The burger looked good though, and Dean realized he was absolutely ravenous. He attacked the food with gusto and was way too busy to notice the smile on Cas’ face as he watched Dean eat.

 

**********

Sam wandered aimlessly through the bunker, too tired to do any more research but not tired enough to sleep and too restless to watch TV. He prowled into the library, where he’d left the laptop when he came back from dinner and stared at the book on the table that Cas had been reading. It was in Greek, and Sam’s Greek was only good enough to work out that the book was a treatise on human communication with angels. Sam flicked through a couple of pages, but really his command of the language was nowhere near sufficient to understand any of it. But he found himself wondering why Cas was reading it and why it was relevant to the Darkness, or Metatron, or anything really.

Cas had tucked his notes inside the book, but they appeared to be in Enochian, which Sam had even less facility with than Greek. He did notice one symbol however, that looked familiar. He stared at it, racking his brain as to where he had seen it before. But the memory wouldn’t come, and there was no way to force it. Sam gave up. Maybe he’d get into bed and find something dumb on Netflix after all.

After a quick shower, Sam stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth when his eyes fell upon the scar on his chest that Cas had pointed out several days ago. He rinsed and replaced the toothbrush in it’s holder, then leaned forward to get a better look at the scar. Examining it closely,  it struck him that this scar was the same shape as the familiar symbol in Cas’ notes. What the Hell? Sam grimaced at himself in the mirror. What else had Gadreel done while joyriding in his body?

He pushed away from the mirror and returned to the library. Snatching up Cas’ notes, he looked at the symbol again. There was no question they were the same, but what did it mean? He headed to his room, the notes in one hand. Laying down on the bed, having abandoned the idea of watching TV, he stared up at the ceiling, his fingers tracing the outline of the scar.

 

*********

 

_Sammy_ …

Sam was ready for the dream now. He was convinced that it was more than just a dream, that this was a vision of some kind and he was determined to try and gather clues to the location of this grimy warehouse. He poked about in the trash, noting the name of the pizza company was a national chain and no help at all, but also finding a fridge magnet with the name of a liquor store on it and a menu for an Indian restaurant and bar. Both were in Maryland by the looks of it, but Sam was not familiar enough with the state to know if the city listed on both, Glen Burnie, was anywhere near Baltimore city.

He kept on down the hall, looking for anything else that might be a clue to his location. A scrap of paper at his feet caught his eye. It was a pink sticky note, dirty and crumpled, with a phone number: 410-555-7125. _7125!_ The notebook had called Metatron’s experiments Project 7125. This could not be a coincidence. _You’re dreaming_ , his brain pointed out, _it could totally be a coincidence_. Undeterred, Sam continued towards the room with the prisoner.

Nothing in the room had changed. Sam looked around for any other sources of light but the light switches on the wall did not seem to do anything. It would be pretty dark in here once Sam extinguished the ring of holy flame. He realized with a start that he had already decided to do this, he had to know who was trapped here. He strode over to the circle and scraped at the floor with his boot, scuffing at the ring of burning oil. The flames flared upwards once and then died, leaving Sam with a red after-impression on his retinas that obscured his vision for a few minutes. Finally he was able to see well enough to look at the person on the floor, who had not moved in response to Sam’s actions. He kneeled on the dirty concrete and reached out to touch the figure on the shoulder. The body rolled easily under his touch and Sam had a sudden impression of amber eyes when he awoke with a shout.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean tell Sam about their theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs after S11E03 Baby and just before S11E04 Thin Lizzie.
> 
> I'm playing a little fast and loose with Christian mythology here. Since the show does the same, I'm hoping anyone reading this will not be offended, but consider this fair warning.

Sam was watching Cas and Dean again as the three of them unloaded the car from yesterday’s trip to Little Rock. The strange tension he had noticed had not gone away, if anything Dean seemed even jumpier. The way he kept flicking his eyes to Sam, and then back to Cas was downright weird.

“So, how was Martin?” he asked, not really that interested but someone had to cut through the atmosphere in the garage. Dean shrugged and shut the trunk.

“Good, I guess. A little hobbled by gout apparently.” Dean shot another look at Cas, who was carrying the radiator over to the Impala.

“Oh, really,” Sam said lamely. “Sounds uncomfortable.” _Ugh. Could this conversation be any more banal?_

“We should tell him,” Cas announced, appearing suddenly at Dean’s shoulder. Sam raised one eyebrow and looked at his brother. Dean wiped a hand over his face, and then rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s finish up here first, and meet in the library.” Dean looked at Sam, who wanted to protest but if he and Cas had something major to tell him, maybe the garage was not an ideal location.

“OK.” He turned and left the garage, and tried not to hear the urgently whispered conversation behind him.

 

 *************

 

Sam made his way into the library and was happy for the sake of his nerves that Cas and Dean weren’t far behind. Dean settled into a chair near Sam, Cas stood behind him at his shoulder.

“Go ahead, Cas. It might be better if you explain it.” Dean said. A strange expression flickered across the angel’s face that Sam couldn’t identify.

“The scar on your chest, below your anti-posession tattoo. It’s the mark of a Grace anchor.”  Cas said without further preamble.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sam exclaimed, his temper beginning to ignite. Cas shook his head.

“I would not joke about such a thing, Sam,” he said solemnly.

“Whose is it? Who did this to me?” Unable to stand still as his anger boiled within, Sam pushed back from his chair and began to pace. His hands fisted at his sides, Cas and Dean exchanged a look. Cas straightened his shoulders.

“We think the mostly likely candidate is Gadreel.” Sam let out an explosive breath.

“I suppose this was while he was joyriding around in my body,” he ground out. Cas shook his head again, this time more in thought than denying Sam’s point.

“It’s possible, although that in itself would be quite unusual. Grace anchors between angels and humans are rare,” Cas’ glance again jerked away to meet Dean’s eyes before returning to Sam. “I’ve never heard of an angel forming one with a vessel while within that vessel. But it’s the only explanation we have right now.” Sam raked a hand through his hair. This was totally insane.

“Why would Gadreel do this? What would he hope to gain?” Cas looked thoughtful. Dean shrugged.

“Seems obvious to me,” he stated, his tone deliberately casual. “This resurrection thing you’ve been investigating. Maybe he wanted an insurance policy in case he got killed.”

“No, that wouldn’t work. According to the notebook, an anchor who is reluctant or resistant to the resurrection seems to be able to block it pretty effectively,” Cas explained. “Gadreel and Metatron figured that out the hard way, it’s why so many of their early experiments failed. In fact, the only times they were able to effectively resurrect was when the angel and the anchor had some kind of positive connection.”

“Positive connection?” Sam and Dean asked at the same time and it was a sign of the strain the angel felt that he did not smile at their synchronized thought.

“Admiration, friendship, affection,” he cleared his throat. “Love.” Dean swivelled round to face Cas.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Sam doesn’t love Gadreel, Cas,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The angel flinched and made a quelling motion with his hands.

“Of course. For resurrection purposes, making Sam a Grace anchor makes no sense. But as I told you, that’s not the only or even the primary purpose of the anchor. I’ve already mentioned that it could be used for absolutely secret communication, but in truth that was not the original purpose.

“You both know that angels do not experience emotions the way humans do, but that can change when we take a vessel. Grace anchoring was introduced as a way to minimize this effect. The anchor stays in Heaven and through the anchor, shields the angel on earth from emotional influences.” Cas broke off at this point and his mouth twisted as he considered how to proceed. Dean had turned away, his face a mask of distaste and Sam kept his expression intentionally blank. The angelic contempt for human emotion always left a sour taste in his mouth.

“In truth, anchoring did not work particularly well for its intended purpose.” Cas continued. “But it was excellent for highly secret communication. We only abandoned the practice because of the side effects.” Dean had tilted his head back and Cas was gazing down into Dean’s eyes as he said this. Sam was beginning to feel distinctly superfluous to this conversation. _Again_. Even though it was about him, dammit. He coughed theatrically.

“Side effects?”

“Anchoring Grace within another angel risks madness, in either the donor or the recipient. Or both. But only if both angels are in the same place, if one remains in Heaven and the other on earth then there is no problem.” Cas answered without looking at Sam. “Between a human and an angel, the risk of insanity also exists when both angel and anchor are on earth, but there is also the risk that the angel may develop strong feelings towards the human. Especially when a bond or other positive connection already exists between the two.” He swallowed. “It was disastrous.” Sam stared at Cas, whose normally pale face had acquired a faint rosy tone.

“Disastrous?” Dean said, his tone gruff. The color in the angel’s face was making him feel like he was missing something. Cas looked away then, suddenly fascinated by his shoes.

“Gabriel was the first angel to create an anchor in a human. Forming the anchor creates a profound bond. Strong enough to cause an angel to behave… uncharacteristically.” Sam drew in a sudden breath.

“So why couldn’t Gadreel force…” his voice strangled in his throat with horror. He briefly wrestled for control of the emotions that were shredding his senses. “Force this bond on me to make me feel more positively towards him.” Despite his internal struggle, he was shocked at the tragic look on Cas’ face. The angel looked utterly destroyed.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Cas explained, his voice low. “The angel feels the effect, not the anchor.”

“OK, then, so Gadreel maybe wanted to be able to communicate with you, once he was no longer using you as a vessel.” Dean pondered and Sam winced, but shook his head.

“That doesn’t seem worth the risk. Maybe there are other things the anchor can do. Cas, you said Gabriel was the first to form a Grace anchor in a human. What happened?” Cas sighed heavily.

“Yes. The human’s name is known to you. It was Judas Iscariot.” Dean and Sam sucked in astonished breaths. Cas shook his head sorrowfully.

“Gabriel was already behaving quite strangely at the time. Zepheniah had been sent to assess the situation in Palestine. I hear his report recommended that Gabriel be recalled - since he was an archangel, Zepheniah could not order it, but there was much concern.

“Gabriel was very attached to the Apostle, almost blasphemously so. When Zepheniah discovered that Gabriel had formed a Grace anchor with Judas, Michael was almost beside himself with rage. He would have recalled Gabriel, but he didn’t get the chance. Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and subsequent death drove Gabriel crazy with grief. That’s when he disappeared, and we all thought he had died.” Cas choked on those last words and Dean, in an uncharacteristic display of empathy, grasped the angel’s hand and squeezed it.

“So why did Gabriel form the anchor with Judas?” Sam asked. “Surely not for communication?”

“You remember how difficult it was to get straight answers from Gabriel.” The angel shrugged. “My guess is that he needed a way of keeping track of Judas. The angel always knows exactly where the anchor is. Perhaps he already suspected Judas, and was reckless enough to ignore the risks.”

“So Gadreel, or more likely Metatron, wanted to keep tabs on Sam, then. Possibly both of us, since we’re usually a twofer.” Dean suggested. Cas nodded.

“That seems most likely to me. And using Gadreel rather than take on the risks himself is precisely his style.”

Sam exchanged a look with his brother as he stretched the kinks out of his spine. “Hungry?” he asked, knowing Dean’s answer would almost certainly be yes. Dean nodded in agreement and looked significantly towards the kitchen. Cas gave Sam a sad smile and then settled himself at the table with a book. Sam pulled his large frame from his chair and headed out to the kitchen, sensing more than hearing his brother following him out.

 

*************

 

Once inside, Sam turned and leaned against a counter and leveled a look at Dean, who looked a little sheepish.

“So, you and Cas had this conversation about me, _without me_ , while on your little road trip?” Sam demanded. Dean nodded.

“Cas wanted to run it by me before we talked to you is all,” he offered. Sam inhaled deeply.

“All right. I get it.” Dean’s shoulders slumped in relief, only to stiffen again when Sam continued. “Are you guys cool?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t we be?” Dean said unconvincingly. He leaned stiffly against the fridge and shoved one hand in the pocket of his jeans, affecting a casual stance he clearly didn’t really feel.

“I dunno, man,” Sam said with a strained note in his voice. “Doesn’t this sound even a little bit familiar?” Dean looked puzzled and Sam despaired of his eternally oblivious brother.

“The story of an angel who defied Heaven, all for one human? That doesn’t sound in any way like someone you know?” Dean gaped at him. Sam was clearly losing it.

“Are you suggesting some parallel between Cas and the story about Gabriel and Judas?” Sam nodded and Dean shook his head in disbelief. “So who’s the human in your little metaphor?” Sam’s mouth dropped open. There was no way Dean was this dense.

“You, of course. Who else?” Sam should have been enjoying the utter astonishment on Dean’s face but something about Cas’ very real distress earlier rather robbed the moment of its amusement value.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is ridiculous. First of all, we’re friends. _Good_ friends, but that’s all. And secondly, genius, I’m not the one wandering around with a mysteriously acquired Grace anchor.” Dean was almost growling at this point and his face was pale and sweating. He pushed away from the refrigerator and Sam began to feel a little alarmed. Dean stalked towards him and prodded him in the chest, his teeth bared in a grimace. Sam swallowed. He hadn’t considered that, mainly because he really didn’t think Cas felt that way about him and he was almost sure that Cas _did_ feel that way about Dean.

“Did you ask Cas if he placed this Grace anchor on me? Why would he speculate about Gadreel and Metatron if he knew he was responsible?” Sam said exasperatedly. Dean subsided a little.

“Yeah, I already accused him of doing this to you. He looked at me like I’d gone stark, staring mad.” Sam gave an amused snort at the mental image. “But I still say you’ve got the wrong idea about me and him.” Dean grabbed a pizza menu off the counter and shoved it at Sam. “Pizza. And beer. And bourbon. I’ve had enough chick flick moments these last few days to last me a lifetime.”

 

**************

 

Dean was drunk, which was not necessarily an unusual state for him but he was surprisingly mellow, considering. Sam rolled his eyes anyway. Dean was lounging back in his chair, feet propped on the table as he expounded to Cas on the relative merits of different rock guitarists. Frankly, Sam couldn’t think of a topic he was less interested in, but he knew better than to interrupt and risk spoiling Dean’s mood which could turn on a dime even when sober. Cas was sitting forward, elbows on the table propping up his head and he at least gave the impression of being interested in Dean’s conversation. Sam suspected Dean could have been reading the phonebook and it would not diminish Cas’ attention one iota.

Sam picked up his beer bottle and saw to his dismay it was empty. With a groan, he levered himself out of his chair and waved the empty bottle at Dean. His brother had been switching between whisky and beer and had probably had more than enough, but Sam wasn’t his mom and besides he still wanted another.

“...and that is why Jimmy Page is the greatest guitarist to have ever lived.” Dean declared, raising his own half empty bottle to Sam in salute.

“That’s very interesting, Dean.” Cas said as Sam left the room. Dean rocked back in his chair but his inebriation had severely affected his sense of balance and he pushed back too far. Cas’ hand snapped out swiftly and grabbed Dean’s ankle. This prevented Dean from tipping back any further but he was still tilted too far to right himself. Cas stood, sliding Dean’s leg across the table top towards him as he did so. The chair came back to rest on all four legs and Cas leaned forward, placing his free hand firmly on the arm and looming over Dean. Dean grinned sloppily at the angel, who frowned back at him.

“You are drunk.” Cas said unnecessarily.

“Yup.” Dean leaned his head back to look at Cas, who looked back with mixture of exasperation and amusement. Dean’s throat was fully exposed in this position, and as that fact began to filter through his muddy brain, his mouth went dry. Cas’ eyes seemed to be cataloging his features, roaming over his face until Dean couldn’t stand it any more.

“C’mon, man. I’m OK now.” he waved vaguely at his legs. Cas’ gaze swept to his and Dean began to wonder fuzzily what the angel was thinking. Then Cas leaned back and sat back in his chair, his right hand still firmly clamped around Dean’s ankle. Dean was vaguely aware that if he was sober, he would tell Cas to let go, but he couldn’t remember why he would want that. Cas’ hand was warm and the feeling of his grip felt good in some indefinable way.

Sam re-entered the room clutching the fresh beer bottles in one hand and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the scene before him. Dean held his hand out for his bottle, oblivious to his brother’s surprise. He looked at Cas, who made a self-deprecating shrug.

“He was falling out of his chair,” the angel said, which was entirely inadequate as an explanation to Sam’s mind.

“All right,” he replied carefully, examining Cas closely. His face was more content than Sam had seen in some time and Dean seemed entirely relaxed.

Sam closed the lid of his laptop and raised his beer to his brother.

“I’m gonna try and finish my book and then hit the sack. See you in the morning.”

 

Dean watched Cas with a ghostly sense of detachment as the angel gazed steadily back. _Pity angels couldn’t get drunk without tremendous effort_ , he thought. Cas’ lips parted and his eyes widened and Dean realized he’d said that out loud.

“That came out wrong,” he admitted.

“You want to get me intoxicated?” the angel asked curiously. Dean flushed.

“It’s sounds bad when you say it like that.” he slurred.

“I’m taking you to bed,” the angel decided. Dean quirked one eyebrow at him, and Cas held out his hand. Dean grasped it and attempted to pull himself upright, but he really was very drunk and nothing was working as it should. He sagged back and Cas let go of his hand and instead leaned forward.

“Put your arms around my neck,” Cas instructed. Dean complied without complaint, his head lolling against Cas’ shoulder. The angel slid his other arm under Dean’s knees and with one swift movement lifted him bodily out the chair.

“Y’don’ haf t’carry me, Cas.” Dean protested faintly.

“It’s no problem, Dean. Let’s just get you into bed.”

 

Sam heard shuffling in the hallway and some murmuring that sounded like Cas. He put down his book and opened his door to the astonishing sight of Cas carrying his brother down the hall like a sleeping child. Dean’s head was nestled into the crook of Cas’ neck and snoring gently. Sam flashed an apologetic grin at him, the angel’s returning smile was fond.

 

*************

 

Dean’s awareness filtered in slowly, a sure sign he had gone overboard last night. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was. The bunker had no windows, so the room was absolutely pitch black but he seemed to be lying down, so he was probably in bed. He grimaced, trying to sort through his blurred memories of the previous evening. _Ugh_.

He dragged himself upright and spotted his bedside clock, which told him it was a little after 8am. He reached out to find the lamp and switched it on. The sudden light sent ice-picks of pain through his eyeballs and he groaned. Another stab of pain accompanied the sight of his clothes, neatly folded on the chair by the door. Had Sam put him to bed last night? He frowned at the thought, when Sam had done that before, he took off Dean’s boots, not undressed him entirely. Which suggested that Cas must have put him to bed, and had undressed him down to his boxers. Dean’s cheeks began to burn at the thought, and he had to clear his throat several times. A knock on his door pulled him out of that notion and Sam’s voice filtered through.

 “Dean? Are you up?” His brother sounded amused, which meant he knew Dean probably had a hangover.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Dean replied, his voice hoarse. When he opened the door, Sam was standing there with a large mug of coffee and a bottle of Advil, which he thrust into Dean’s hands with a smirk. Dean was too grateful to snark at Sam’s amusement.

“Come find us in the library when you feel more human,” Sam invited. “We’ve got something.”


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean realize something disturbing about Sam's mysterious Grace anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N The is the last chapter which takes place between S11E03 Baby and S11E04 Thin Lizzie.

When Dean finally slouched his way into the library, it was to find Sam sat at his laptop and Cas leaning over his shoulder examining something on the screen. Cas’ hand rested lightly on Sam’s arm and Dean suppressed an unexpected growl that began to form in the back of his throat. _What had gotten into him lately?_

“Hey,” he snarled. “What’s so fascinating?” Cas looked up and beckoned him over and then pointed to the screen. Dean squinted at the figure in the back of the photograph that Cas was indicating.

“We think it’s Metatron,” Sam added helpfully. Dean’s attention perked up and he peered at the screen.

“Could be,” he agreed. “Where is it?”

“I got this from the website of the Dundalk Eagle. It’s a local paper from a suburb of Baltimore, where the last fire was. I contacted the journalist and the photo was actually taken in a city called Glen Burnie, which is due south of Baltimore city and west of the Chesapeake Bay.” Sam pulled up Google Maps and pointed to the location. Dean followed Sam’s finger and frowned.

“If the fire was in Dundalk,” he pointed to the location southeast of Baltimore, “why was the photo taken in Glen Burnie, on the other side of the Bay?” Sam zoomed out the picture so Dean could see the whole image.

“This woman is the mother of the woman who died in the last fire, she lives in Glen Burnie.” Sam explained. “I’m still not sure Metatron is related to the fires, he could be there for an unrelated reason.”

“I dunno man, it’s still pretty thin. We still don’t know if that really is Metatron, and where do these fires fit in?” Dean observed. His stomach growled and Sam wordlessly produced a blueberry muffin from a paper bag in the table and placed it in his hand. Sam was being very nice to him this morning, Dean thought suspiciously. Which meant Sam probably wanted to go check out this lead in Maryland and this was his way of making Dean go along with it. Dean slumped heavily in a chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shouldn’t we be concentrating on the Darkness, anyway?”

“Well, I think it’s worth following up.” Sam sulked. “If we find Metatron, maybe he knows something about it. Her. Whatever.” Dean sighed.

“OK, look, I’ve still got some work to do on the car. Let me get rid of this headache and finish up with Baby and then maybe we’ll go check it out.” Dean felt Cas’ hand on his arm and before he could free himself, he felt the warm glow of Cas’ grace and his headache evaporated. He gave Cas a grateful smile. “You shouldn’t waste healing on hangovers, Cas.” The angel moved his  hand to Dean’s jaw and brushed his thumb across his cheekbone.

“You were in pain. I cannot bear to see it.” Dropping his hand, he turned away and left the room. Dean stared at Sam in confusion.

“Umm…” Dean said coherently. “Car. Uhh -- later. Umm, see you...later.” Sam watched Dean as he fled and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

 

**************

 

When Sam went to find Dean a little later, he was surprised to find Cas in the garage as well. Dean was under the Impala’s hood, and Cas was leaning against the car beside him.

“Dammit. I’m gonna have to take the fuel pump out. This engine mount is loose and I can’t get to it otherwise.” Dean said to the angel. Cas looked at what Dean was pointing at with polite interest.

“Hey!” Sam said. Dean looked up and raised a hand in greeting.

“What’s up, Sam. I’m kinda busy here.” He wiped his hand on a rag handed to him silently by Cas.

“All right. Well, I might have something on the Darkness after all. Come swing by the library when you’re done.” Sam gave a half-shrug of irritation and strolled back out. Cas looked at Dean.

“What?” Dean said defensively.

“I thought you wanted to track down the Darkness. Now Sam says he has a lead and you’re not interested. And you weren’t interested in his Metatron lead this morning either. What’s the matter?” Cas was wearing his concerned face and Dean exhaled loudly.

“It’s nothing. Just, y’know. Nothing.” The angel looked irritated at this response and stepped forward into Dean’s personal space.

“Nothing. You’re totally fine. Everything is normal?” Cas pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Totally OK.” Dean cast about for something to say that might get the angel out of his face. “What’s the problem?”

“You, Dean.” Cas stated, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re not sleeping well, I know. Drinking yourself unconscious, as you did last night?” Dean flushed. Cas’ hands reached out and gripped Dean’s shoulders. “I am concerned for your wellbeing.” Dean tried to step back but the angel’s grasp was firm.

“Let me go, Cas. I told you, I’m fine.” But he couldn’t look Cas in the eye and say that and the angel knew it.

“Talk to me, Dean.” Cas pleaded. “It’s why I’m here.” Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Look, Cas, you know as well as Sam does that I don’t do the whole sharing thing, OK. If I need help, I’ll ask for it. I just-- I got a lot on my mind lately, that’s all.” He pulled away and Cas let him go.

“Very well. Have you talked to Sam any more about the Grace anchor?” Dean’s eyes narrowed at the sudden change of subject.

“Not really. I mean, we about covered everything yesterday, right?”

“I have been thinking,” Cas told him. “I am beginning to wonder if my original supposition was correct.”

“Meaning?”

“We focused on Gadreel, because he was the angel that most recently had contact with Sam. But we don’t know how long Sam has had the mark. I only noticed it because it had turned red, but typically the mark is much fainter.”

“Does the color change mean something?” Dean asked, unnerved.

“I don’t know. There’s very little lore - human or angel - about Grace anchors with humans. Michael forbade all discussion of the topic.” Cas’ hands clenched in an uncharacteristic display of vexation. “Do you have any photos of Sam with his shirt off?” Dean gaped at Cas.

“You what now?” he exclaimed. Cas leveled a look at him.

“We could examine them to see if we can spot the mark. Maybe we could get a timeframe for when the mark appeared.”

“I don’t exactly go around taking pictures of my brother half-naked, Cas.” Dean said reproachfully. He pulled out his phone and flipped through the pictures on it. There was one where Sam’s shirt had been ripped down his front, after a tangle with a nest of vampires a few years ago. The angle was strange because the photo had been accidental, Dean had been trying to take a photo of a rune carved into the wall of the house and Sam had stepped into frame at the last moment. He showed it to Cas, who peered at it.

“This is too small,” he complained. Dean suppressed a sigh and demonstrated how to zoom with his fingers. The angel grinned with delight and the sight gave Dean a strange breathless feeling in his chest. Cas manipulated the photo a little more and then stabbed at it in triumph.

“It’s there. When was this taken?” Dean turned the phone to face him and examined the spot Cas had identified. There was definitely something there, silvery and a little indistinct but he agreed that it was the mark. He looked at the timestamp.

“December  30, 2012” He looked up at Cas, his eyes wide.

“Long before you met Gadreel. Before you found the bunker.” Cas mused. “Do you have any others?” Dean shook his head.

“Not on this phone. But there are probably more on Sam’s computer.” Cas nodded and turned to leave.

“I will check.” Dean reached out for the angel’s arm.

“Wait, Cas.” Cas turned to face him, looking down at his hand in surprise. Dean snatched it back. “Don’t freak Sam out. Wait until he’s not around or something.”

“Of course.” Cas agreed and settled back against the car. He flashed Dean a reassuring smile and handed him the torque wrench he’d been using when Sam interrupted them.

 

*************

 

When Cas re-entered the library, Sam was closing the lid of his laptop. He looked frustrated as he raked a hand through his hair. He looked up at the sound of Cas’ footsteps.

“Hey, Cas. No Dean?” he asked.

“No, he’s still working on the Impala. Apparently I was standing in his light,” the angel explained ruefully. Sam laughed.

“So he chased you out! Yeah, he’s done that to me a few times over the years. Don’t take it personally.” Sam stretched and drew himself upright.

“Unless you came specifically to talk to me, I’m gonna hit the shower.” Cas shook his head. Sam nodded and headed to the bathroom. Once he was sure Sam was gone, Cas pulled the laptop towards him. He hated this thing - it had some kind of vendetta against him, he was sure. Dean had laughed when Cas had expounded on this theory to him, but it was the only explanation for how it would freeze up and strange websites would appear without warning. Perhaps it was haunted.

He opened a window to look at the files on the hard disk. Sam was methodical and it was easy to find where all the Winchesters’ photos were stored. The pictures were stored in folders labeled with the year, so Cas started with 2012. Scanning the thumbnails, the photo from Dean’s phone was here, but no others that were useful. Cas sighed and opened the 2011 folder. There was what Cas believed was called a selfie that Sam had taken in June 2011. Cas scowled, the photo was dated just days before he’d opened the door to Purgatory. He did want to dwell on that too closely so he took a deep breath and opened the picture. Sam’s hair was wet and the photo appeared to have been taken in a bathroom mirror. Cas frowned, why had Sam taken this photo? He shrugged off the question and zoomed into the spot on Sam’s chest. There it was, the silvery mark, clearer than in the previous photo.

He closed the file and opened up a browser window to log in to the email account Sam had set up for him, but he rarely used. He attached the photo to the email and then returned to the folder. He let his eyes track across the screen, looking for any more photos that might be relevant. Nothing. Sam wasn’t vain enough to keep taking photos of himself shirtless, which would normally be a good thing, but was really unhelpful right now. He moved on to 2010. Apparently soulless Sam had been more inclined to take photos of himself in various states of undress and there were several photos of him which clearly showed the mark. Cas selected one and added it to the email.

After 20 minutes, he had gathered two more photos. One, from 2009, apparently Dean was taking a photo next to a mirror and Sam was reflected in the mirror, changing his shirt. The room was strangely clinical looking but the photo was sharply in focus and the mark was clearly there. The other was one of a series dated May 2009 and had been put in a subfolder labeled ‘Bobby’. The pictures were of Sam in the panic room, stripped to the waist and covered in sweat. Cas swallowed, a sensation remarkably like guilt lodged in his throat. It seemed a strange time to be taking photographs, but maybe Bobby had taken them to show Sam how strung out he had been. As a reminder, or a warning perhaps. More importantly, unlike all the photos Cas had examined so far, there was no sign of the mark on any of them. He attached one of the better pictures from the set, attached it to the open email and sent it to Dean. He closed down the windows and shut the lid of the computer. There was still no sign of Sam, he noted with relief, so he headed back down to the garage.

 

************

 

Dean was still leaning over the Impala, muttering under his breath as he ratcheted a wrench deep inside the engine compartment. Cas watched him silently for a moment, Dean’s capable hands caring for his beloved car.

“Dean.” he said to attract his attention. Dean’s head came up sharply and impacted with the hood. “Aargh! Dammit, Cas!” He rubbed at his sore head with his free hand and tossed the wrench back into the toolbox.

“Are you nearly finished?” Cas asked. Dean grunted, nodding and wiping his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, I’m done.” He rubbed his head again ruefully and added, “In more ways than one.”

“I sent you an email,” Cas explained. Dean pulled out his phone and tapped at it with a grimy finger. His face twisted into a grimace when he saw the content.

“Dude, what the Hell?” He exclaimed, thrusting the phone at Cas, who accepted it and opened the attachments in order.

“See here - when you and Bobby locked Sam in the panic room in an attempt to cure him of the demon blood addiction.” Dean winced, but Cas continued. “No mark. Bobby took several photos, there’s no question it was not there then. Now look at this one.” He pulled up the mirror picture and zoomed in as far as he could. “There it is.”

Dean took the phone from Cas and stared at it silently, flipping between the pictures Cas had sent. When he finally looked up, Cas could see his mind turning things over, remembering.

“So, before Lilith was killed and Lucifer rose, Sam didn’t have the mark. But by the time this photo was taken at that psych hospital where we hunted the wraith, there it is.” He chewed at his lip and Cas looked away. “Well, this blows the Gadreel connection out of the water. So, we’re thinking Lucifer now?”

“I believe it is possible.” Cas hunched his shoulders miserably and Dean reached out to him without thinking. The angel was shaking he realized when his hand made contact with his arm.

“Hey, Cas. Buddy. Calm down, man. We’ll figure this out.” Truth be told, Dean was feeling more than a little shaky himself. Sam was going to freak the Hell out. Cas was gasping for breath and seemed on the verge of a full-on panic attack. Dean swore under his breath then drew the angel into his body. He hugged the angel close and felt the shudders that wracked his frame. He stroked his hands down Cas’ back and felt more than heard the exhalation of breath as Cas suddenly clutched Dean tightly to him. “It’s OK, it’s OK” Dean soothed.

Cas continued to cling to Dean in a way that was beginning to be a little uncomfortable, his hands clenching handfuls of Dean’s shirt. His head was turned into the crook of Dean’s neck and his short huffing breaths warmed the skin there. Dean could feel Cas’ nose grazing against the cords of his neck. He swallowed, torn between wanting to comfort the stressed angel and wildly out of his comfort zone with this kind of intimacy. He screwed up his eyes in an effort to block out his thoughts - _words like... intimacy... are not helpful_ he told his brain. It took a few moments, but finally Cas seemed to regain control of himself and his breathing calmed. He released Dean and stepped back, apparently as taken off guard by the moment as Dean had been.

“You OK?” Dean inquired tentatively. Cas nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Dean took a deep breath. “We have to tell Sam.”

“No,” the angel was adamant. “There’s no need to upset him unnecessarily. We don’t have any proof that this is Lucifer, not yet. It took a long time for Sam to recover from what happened to him.” Cas cleared his throat guiltily, his own contribution to Sam’s mental health struggles still fresh in his mind. Dean stared off into the distance, his own awareness of Cas’ culpability in this matter pricking at him. Sam had forgiven Cas a long time ago. Dean too had absolved the angel, although his brother had a much more forgiving nature that he did.

“I don’t want to keep this from him, Cas,” Dean said gently.

“I know,” Cas replied, his voice wretched. “But let’s be sure first.” Dean blew out a breath, but nodded in agreement.

“Fine. We’ll keep it to ourselves for now. I’m gonna go talk to him about his lead on the Darkness.”

 


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean investigate Metatron's Project 7125 further and what they find surprises them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N This chapter takes place after S11E05 Thin Lizzie and S11E06 Our Little World as E06 clearly occurs right after E05. I’ve “borrowed” just a teensy bit of dialog from the end of E06. The story's going to start diverging into an AU from here on.

“I don’t suppose God’s decided to share any wisdom on the matter?” Dean growled at Sam, who was painfully aware that he was not the focus of his brother’s vexation.

Quashing the urge to snarl back at Dean, Sam responded, “I’ll look into the lore,” and headed into the library.

Dean stared sightlessly at the table in front of him. He did not appreciate being second-guessed in this way, least of all by Cas. _Maybe Cas feels the same way_ , his brain suggested unhelpfully. He looked up at the angel who was glaring at him, a muscle working in his jaw.

“God’s freaking sister.” Dean said again. He draped himself over a chair and huffed out a breath. “Whatever.”

* * *

Sam was firmly convinced that this was pointless, he’d already scoured the library with Cas to find any mentions of the Darkness and had come up with very little. Scowling, he opened his laptop and saw an email was waiting for him from Dennis Morgan, a secretary for a logistics company in Maryland. Dennis was married to Tracy Fields, a hunter of Sam and Dean’s acquaintance, and he’d been quite happy to pass along the information Sam needed. If he knew that Sam and Tracy had been lovers at one time, he did not seem to hold a grudge.

Sam then opened the attachment, which seemed to be a list of names and alongside each name was listed a letter and a number. He scanned the list until one entry caught his eye.

Marvcorp                                 170 Penrod Ct                        2/14/2013                3 year lease paid in full

According to Cas, Marvcorp was the name of the company Metatron was using now as a photographer. Apparently the ex-Scribe of God was as unoriginal as he was unpleasant. Surely Dean would want to check this out now, but if not then Sam was going to go on his own. Maybe Cas would come along for backup, assuming Dean would let him. Sam frowned at that thought.

Sam looked at the time on the computer. It was late, and he was tired. He couldn’t hear any more arguing from the war room behind him so hopefully Dean and Cas had stopped fighting. He closed his laptop and cautiously walked to the door. Cas hadn’t moved from his position near the table. Dean was lounging in a chair but his expression was tense and his gaze focused on the angel. _Had they just stared at each other like this for the past few hours?_

“I’ve got nothing, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.” Sam announced. Neither his brother nor the angel acknowledged him, so he rolled his shoulders and headed off to his room.

* * *

 Morning found Dean asleep on the table, his head supported on his arms. Cas was nowhere to be seen. Sam shoved his brother roughly in the shoulder.

“You slept here? Why?” Dean grunted wordlessly but was otherwise unforthcoming. “Where’s Cas?”

“No idea. Don’t care.” Dean said sullenly. Sam inspected his brother more closely. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin was pale and the smell of stale whisky was evident. He kicked Dean in the ankle, who yelped.

“Go get cleaned up. You stink.” Sam said, at the end of his patience, and strode out to go find Cas.

 The angel could be hard to find when he wanted to be, and Sam had almost given up when he ran into him standing outside Dean’s bedroom door. His hand was raised as though he had planned to knock and then thought better of it.

“Cas?” The angel started, shamefaced. “Dean’s recovering from too much whisky and a night sleeping at the war room table. Best leave him to it,” Sam advised. Cas rolled his eyes, shocking a laugh out of Sam.

“I offered to help him last night, but he just told me to leave him alone.” Cas told him bitterly. Sam sobered. Dean could be an ass sometimes.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You know how he is.” Sam shrugged. “He’s frustrated and he takes it out on the ones he loves.”

“I’m not sure I qualify for that category,” Cas muttered. Sam plastered on a grin.

“Course you do. Far as Dean’s concerned, you’re family. You know that.” Cas’ shoulders slumped. Sam studied him for a minute. He’d been nursing his suspicions about the nature of Cas’ feelings towards his brother for a long time. “He’s not an easy person to love,” Sam put forward. Cas flinched again, keeping his eyes averted from Sam’s.

“I don’t need to explain to you why he is the way he is.” Sam continued. “And I don’t know how to get him to see you in a different light.” Cas’  gaze shot up to meet Sam’s eyes, his expression horrified. “I’m right about how you feel about him, aren’t I?” Sam pressed. Cas was shaking his head slowly, but Sam didn’t think he was denying what Sam was saying.

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” the angel whispered. “I can’t…He doesn’t...” he broke off.

“You think he doesn’t feel the same way about you?” Sam shrugged with a casualness he didn’t feel. “With Dean, it’s always hard to tell. But I don’t think it’s a lost cause,’ he added carefully. He was inclined to believe his brother’s feelings towards Cas were not as platonic or fraternal as Dean liked to make out. But it was unfair on Cas to pretend knowledge of Dean’s inner life that he did not have. He wondered briefly if he should even have gone this far, but if Cas and Dean had spent this long soulfully gazing at each other without either of them _getting a freaking clue_ , then maybe a gentle nudge in the right direction was required. Cas was staring at him right now, the normally stoic angel’s face a riot of conflicting emotions. Then, just like flicking a switch, his face wiped blank. He nodded at Sam and strode away down the hall.

* * *

A shower, coffee and a Danish pastry proffered up by Sam improved Dean’s mood immensely. _Thank God._ Sam thought, a little meanly. Cas shuffled into the library in the most diffident way possible, tension vibrating from every move. Dean had beamed at him from around his pastry and Cas’ returning smile had lit up the room like the rising sun. Sam scratched at the back of his head. Another day on the Dean Winchester Emotional Rollercoaster. Sam reflected on whether his mercurial brother deserved Cas’ devotion, then scolded himself for his disloyalty. It was none of his business really, and if he felt a worm of envy in his gut he quickly suppressed it. Dean was his brother, Cas was his friend and he wanted them to be happy.

“Cas!” Dean said expansively, spraying crumbs everywhere. “Come get some breakfast.”

“It’s 12:30” Sam said acidly. Dean snorted and waved dismissively. Cas moved tentatively towards Dean, and sat cautiously in the chair beside him. He accepted the plate Dean shoved in his direction and broke off a small piece of the croissant. He eyed it for a moment and then placed it delicately in his mouth. Dean watched the whole performance open mouthed, his own pastry forgotten. Cas’ tongue flicked out to catch small crumbs on his lips, then he swallowed and Dean tracked the movement of his throat so intensely that Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but neither his brother nor the angel seemed to notice. When Cas reached for another piece, Dean’s cheeks began to acquire a pinkish hue and Sam was forced to look away. Yes he wanted Dean and Cas to be happy, but did they have to carry on like this right in front of him?

Oblivious to his brother’s discomfort, Dean gazed at the sight of Cas daintily consuming the buttery flakes of croissant and was distantly aware that he was breathing hard. Didn’t Cas realize that eating in such a suggestive manner was hardly polite in front of his friends? He blinked, then choked. _Suggestive? What the Hell?_ Cas raised one eyebrow at him and in that moment Dean was convinced he was going to die. When the angel lifted another piece of pastry to his mouth, Dean pushed back suddenly from the table.

“More coffee,” he muttered and headed out to the kitchen. Sam silently agreed. He wasn’t sure he was going to survive this.

Sam thought Dean might have just made his escape and hidden somewhere deep in the bunker, but after a few minutes he returned with a steaming mug of coffee. Carefully avoiding looking at the angel, he turned his attention to Sam. “So, what have you got for us this morning?” he said brightly, propping his legs on the table and leaning back in the chair. Sam opened his laptop and called up the file Dennis had sent him last night.

“So, Dennis Morgan works for Chesapeake Logistics, they’re a warehouse leasing and trucking firm in Maryland.” Dean wrinkled his nose in concentration.

“Dennis Morgan - I don’t know the name. Is he a hunter?” Sam shook his head.

“Nope. But he’s married to Tracy Fields.” Dean’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Tracy, huh? Well.” Dean seemed somewhat at a loss for words. “I mean, uh, he never struck me as the marrying kind.”

“You mean, you didn’t know he was gay.” Sam stated sententiously. Dean tried to give a casual shrug, and failed.

“OK, yeah. I never knew. It never came up in conversation, y’know. You’re on a job, here’s the plan to gank these monsters, oh by the way I like dudes.” Dean slapped a hand down on the table and Sam and Cas both jumped. “It’s not important.” Sam gave him a side glance.

“Not important?” he said, his tone cautious.

“No! Who cares? Tracy’s a good hunter. Solid, dependable. That’s all I care about.” Dean gestured at Sam. “We’re getting off the point.”

 _That’s what you think_ , Sam thought to himself. He risked a quick glance at Cas, who was observing Dean with a thoughtful look on his face. Dean wasn’t a homophobe, even if his language was often impolitic. Sam knew this, but underlining that fact to Cas couldn’t hurt. He drew their attention to the spreadsheet on his computer. “Dennis sent me this, it’s a list of all their current lessees. Look what I found.” He highlighted the Marvcorp line with the cursor. 

“Marvcorp?” Dean rolled his eyes. “He’s been leasing this warehouse since Valentine’s Day 2013. Is that date significant?” Dean directed this question to Cas, who had been hovering silently.

“I don’t know. Unless the resurrected angel is a cupid,” Cas suggested. Sam and Dean looked at each other in remembered horror. “I wouldn’t think Metatron would be scared of a cupid somehow.”

“I dunno, dude. The last one we met was sort of terrifying.” Dean remarked and Sam let out a bark of laughter.

“Laugh it up, Sammy, but I don’t remember you enjoying being hugged by a naked fat man either.” He punched Sam in the arm good-naturedly. “OK, you’ve convinced me. Let’s go check it out. It may be nothing, but there are way too many coincidences here.”

* * *

The motel Dean had found a few miles from Louisville, KY was no worse than any of the cheap, out-of-town dives they had stayed in over the years, but Sam figured the bunker had spoiled them a little. He missed his comfortable bed that actually fit his tall frame and he definitely did not miss sharing a room with Dean. Dean for his part was in an unusually somber mood and had said little on the drive until he’d suddenly declared himself tired of driving and pulled into the motel parking lot. Sam had protested, since he was still awake enough to drive, but Dean had been adamant. They’d eaten at a slightly skeevy bar nearby and Dean had surprised Sam by ignoring not one but two very attractive girls who’d flirted with him. So when they’d returned to the room with a cooler full of beer, Sam’s curiosity finally got the better of him.

“You totally could have gotten laid tonight,” he observed. “Twice.”

“Envy is an unattractive emotion,” Dean said sanctimoniously. Sam snorted.

“Seriously, dude. What’s up?” Sam pressed, watching his brother eyes narrow and his nostrils flare.

“Why does anything have to be up? I wasn’t in the mood, that’s all.” Dean began taking off his boots, which meant he didn’t have to look Sam in the eye.

“Dean Winchester, not in the mood. I should mark this on my calendar,” Sam grinned. The smile slid off his face when he saw the stormy expression on Dean.

“Leave it alone, Sam,” he warned. Dean took a long pull from his beer and settled back on the bed.

“No way, Dean. You know I can’t ignore it when you start acting strangely.” Sam shook his head and leveled a look at his brother.

“It’s nothing. I’m worried about Cas, is all.” Dean scowled at the surprise on Sam’s face. “Come on. You think I’m acting out of character? What about him?”

Sam was going to have to step carefully now. If he irritated Dean too much, his brother would clam up and he’d get nothing. But if he didn’t push a little, he’d get nowhere either. He plucked absently at the edge of his pillow.

“Well, maybe I’m worried about both of you,” he offered diffidently. When Dean didn’t erupt at that statement, he continued. “I feel like something is happening and it involves you and Cas.” To Sam’s astonishment, Dean nodded in acknowledgement.

“Yeah, OK. Maybe you’re right.”

“So...uh. What do you think is going on with Cas?” Sam said gingerly. Dean sucked on his beer, lost in thought for a moment.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But the Netflix binges and barely leaving the bunker? Sounds like depression to me. When he does finally leave, it’s because of the prospect of finding Metatron. Who he finds and puts in traction by the way. So a lot of anger there too. It’s unhealthy.” Sam stared at Dean in naked astonishment.

“What?” Dean shrugs. “I’m not blind.” Sam privately doubts that, but there’s no question Dean’s assessment of Cas’ recent behavior closely matches his own.

“The anger I get,” Dean continued. “The depression, I’m less certain about the cause. I mean, once he got his Grace back, and we lifted Rowena’s curse, I thought he’d be more back to his old self.”

“Well, a lot’s happened over the last few years. Maybe it’s just all catching up with him. Like angelic PTSD?” Sam said, not really believing what he was saying.

“Yeah, maybe that’s all it is. But I’m worried, man.” Dean replied, sounding no more convinced than Sam had. Dean slid Sam a side glance and Sam knew that meant Dean knew full well that he’d side-stepped Sam’s allusion to something between him and the angel. Sam figured he’d probably got all he was going to get out of his brother for now.

* * *

 The warehouse was easy to find, but at over 60,000 square feet, was not going to be easy to search. The signs on the gate suggested that guard dogs patrolled the premises and CCTV was installed, but a quick look at the disconnected cameras at the gate suggested that the signs were the most menacing thing they would encounter. The chain and padlock were old and rusted and resisted any attempt to pick. Dean gave an irritated grunt and then went back to the Impala for the bolt cutters.

“Nobody’s been here in a long time, Sammy.” he observed. Sam remained silent, his jaw working. If there was nothing here, they were at a dead end.

The warehouse yard had several spotlights, but most were not working and the remaining three were dim and almost useless. Sam held a small flashlight between his teeth as he worked on the lock of a side door. Dean kept a lookout for the promised dogs but the place was silent. It was actually starting to creep Sam out a bit. Finally, the lock gave with a click and he gently pushed it open, tucking his picks back into his jacket. The door led into a small office, which was in a shambles. Sam looked at Dean and mouthed silently at him.

“Robbery?” Dean shook his head.

“Someone got real angry in here.” he said quietly, pointing at the way the furniture had been overturned and smashed but not apparently searched. A hole had been punched in the wall. The filing cabinets revealed documents related to shipping and invoicing from 2008 and 2009 for a company that had clearly leased the space before Marvcorp. Sam spotted two bullet holes in the wall behind the desk. Dean shrugged. They were old.

Creeping out of the office, they found themselves in the middle of a long damp hallway. Dean pointed to his left and then nodded at Sam who indicated he was going right. The hallway was covered in trash and smelled like it doubled as a urinal and Sam was hit by a sense of deja vu. This was it - the warehouse from his dream, he was certain. He headed down the hallway, hopefully in the direction of the room that in his dream housed the imprisoned angel. It was so quiet, all Sam could hear was his own breathing and his heartbeat thundering in his ears. There was no reflection of firelight like in his dream and Sam began to wonder if they were too late. He pushed open the door at the end of the hall and exhaled suddenly when he saw that the room was empty. He looked around for any clue that may have been left behind but there was nothing. He huffed in frustration. Had this been nothing more than a wild goose chase? He was startled by a shout - that was Dean’s voice. He turned back into the corridor and throwing caution out the window, yelled out for his brother.

“Dean? Dean!”

“Sam!”

Sam skidded on empty pizza boxes and discarded magazines as he ran in the direction of his brother’s voice. When he arrived to find Dean pacing in front of a door, he yelped.

“What’s up?” Sam cried. Dean indicated the door.

“Swung shut when I tried to enter. Son of a bitch nearly took my face off. Now it won’t open.” Sam pointed his flashlight at the door and inspected the lock. He frowned.

“Lock’s busted.” He tried the handle. Nothing. The door wouldn’t budge.

“There’s something alight in there. I caught a quick glimpse before the door shut in my face.” Dean added. Sam gasped. They had to get inside! A strange dragging sound behind them caught his attention. He looked at Dean, who had already cocked his gun and was edging back down the corridor. Sam followed, cautiously, straining to hear. Dean leaned around the corner and made gestures to Sam that told him to hold a moment. He fired three shots down the hallway ahead, then swore, taking off at a run. Sam careened after him, still not sure what they were chasing or shooting at when something grabbed his thigh and sank in sharp teeth that cut through his jeans as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. He grunted in pain and looked down to see a creature attached to his leg like a giant slug. At least five feet long and twice as wide as his arm, it was glistening with a hideous ichor and appeared to sucking at the wound on his leg. Unwilling to shoot it for fear of shooting himself instead, Sam discarded his pistol and dug into his pocket for his Zippo lighter. Fire worked on leeches didn’t it, and this thing kinda looked like a leech. He lit it and held it close to the blindly sucking mouth end. The creature gave a roar of pain and reared back. Sam sagged back against the wall in relief. He found a salt container in another pocket and threw the whole lot over the slug-leech thing and it roared again in pain. Picking up his gun again, he fired the whole clip into the disgusting thing, which exploded wet gray slime up the walls and across the ceiling. Sam heard Dean’s weapon firing as well, and so he started to hobble off in search of his brother, but it quickly became clear that he needed to attend to his injury first. His head swam and he gulped ineffectively for air. He ripped off his belt and fashioned it into a makeshift tourniquet. Still reeling, either from blood loss or maybe poison, he shuffled off in search of Dean.

Dean was trapped by what he could only describe as locusts from Hell. Ones with a taste for human flesh if the wounds on his arms were anything to go by. He heard Sam yelling, maybe more of them had ambushed him. Shit. This had gone to Hell fast. He fired off the last three shots in his gun and then went to change the clip when the remaining locust literally jumped him. Its horrid mandibles waved in front of his face and its legs pinned his arms and legs firmly to the ground.

“Dean!” Sam shouted as he lurched into view. Two well placed shots took care of Dean’s assailant and Dean struggled to free himself from the weight that suddenly pressed down on top of him. Sam dragged the insect corpse off to the side and Dean noticed then that his brother was breathing really hard. His jeans were torn and bloody and covered in some kind of gross slime.

“More locusts?” he asked. Sam shook his head.

“Giant slug-leech.” Dean shuddered. He moved to inspect the damage. “How bad is it?”

“Bad, Sammy. We need to get you out of here.” Sam shook his head.

“Not until we get into that room.” Dean sighed, but one look at Sam’s face told him that there was no point in arguing. He slung an arm under his brother’s shoulders and they limped back to the locked room.

Once there, the light was a little better and Dean inspected Sam’s wound more closely. It was nasty, deep and only the tourniquet was keeping it from bleeding copiously. He tore some strips off Sam’s shirt and began making a field dressing as Sam leaned against the door, his breathing rapid and shallow. Once he was finished, Dean stood up and looked at Sam.

“Any ideas?” Sam shook his head, his eyes slightly unfocused.

“We could knock.” he rasped. Dean stared at him in disbelief. Clearly Sam had lost more blood than he thought. Sam turned and knocked clumsily at the door.

“Hey! It’s me. Let me in.” Dean decided enough was enough and was about to drag Sam back to the car when the door suddenly popped open. Sam pushed at it clumsily and staggered into the room.

Just as in his dream, a circle of burning holy fire surrounded a figure lying motionless on the floor. Lurching forward, almost on autopilot, he scuffed at the circle with his boot, but unlike in his dream, his efforts were rewarded with little more than a hiss and the flames continued to burn. Dean was apparently feeling a bit more quick-witted as he grabbed an old fire bucket from the corner of the room and poured the sand onto the circle which flickered and died. Sam fell to his knees behind the figure and gently rolled the body towards him.  The gray blanket fell open and he gasped as amber eyes opened and a familiar voice croaked, “Sammy. You’re finally here.”

“Gabriel…” Sam breathed. Gabriel gave a weak smile and then his eyes rolled up in his head.

* * *

_Why was this his life?_ Dean grumbled to himself as he carried the unconscious archangel out of the warehouse, listening to his brother drag himself along behind him. Dean really hoped they wouldn’t encounter any more giant invertebrates as they were in no shape to fight. Luckily, they reached the Impala without further incident and after a few moments trying to figure out how to best arrange the injured Sam and the insensate Gabriel, Dean came to the conclusion that the only solution was for Sam to stretch out in the back seat so that his leg was as comfortable as possible, and Gabriel laid out with his head in Sam’s lap.

“Why can’t you just put him in the front seat?” Sam groused.

“Because he’s totally out of it. Every time I turn, he’ll slump over on to my good arm.” Dean explained patiently.

“Whatever.” Sam sulked. Dean sucked in a breath and closed the back door without a retort. Sam was in pain and honestly, Dean wouldn’t exactly want the archangel in his lap either. He dropped into the driver’s seat and nudged the car out of the lot.

Sam needed medical attention, and if he was honest with himself, so did Dean. So he stopped at a drugstore to pick up a few supplies and then pulled into the first motel he saw. The check-in clerk had given him a sideways glance at his battered face but had handed over a room key without comment. By the time he returned to the car, Sam had slipped into a semi-conscious state. Dean decided to get the archangel out of the car first, which was more difficult than it sounded. But he finally pulled Gabriel from the car, who was heavier than he looked, and staggered towards the room. Dean dumped him rather unceremoniously on one of the beds and then returned to fetch his brother. There was no way he could carry Sam, so he coaxed his brother into a more aware state and guided him towards the room.

Dean had fully intended to deposit Sam on the unoccupied bed but Sam tottered over and sank down beside Gabriel. Dean raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. He had to cut Sam out of his ruined jeans and when he took a good look at the ghastly circular wound in Sam’s thigh, he pursed his lips. It looked really bad and it would be better to try and stitch this up in the bathroom but there was no way he was getting Sam to his feet again, so he’d just have to deal. He dabbed the skin with the iodine he’d picked up and carefully sutured the wound as best he could. At least the blood was clotting and he could remove the tourniquet without worrying that Sam would bleed out. He wrapped his leg in gauze and then let Sam fall back against the pillows. After placing aspirin and a bottle of water next to the bed, Dean headed to the bathroom to deal with his own injuries.

The cuts to his arms were not as serious, although the one on his left arm required a couple of stitches. What the Hell were those things anyway? And then there was the archangel. He shook his head at his reflection. Gabriel was dead, Cas had been certain. Had Metatron resurrected him? Or was this some kind of trick? There would be no answers tonight.

He glanced back out into the bedroom, but Gabriel and Sam were both out for the count. Closing the bathroom door quietly, he pulled out his phone and called Cas.

“Dean?” The angel sounded startled.

“Hey, Cas. Uh, so we found who Metatron was keeping prisoner in that warehouse.” He paused, unsure how Cas was going to react to this news. “It’s uh… It’s Gabriel.” Cas huffed out a breathy reply that Dean could not understand. “Look, Sam’s hurt and Gabriel’s unconscious. I think I need some help here.

“Of course, Dean,” the angel rumbled. “Stay where you are. I’ll come and get you.”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's injured, Gabriel's unconscious and Cas comes to the rescue

Dean woke suddenly and rolled over to squint at the clock. It was after 7am, which meant he could go get some breakfast. Casting his eyes over Sam and Gabriel, neither of whom had moved since last night, he checked Sam’s breathing and then pulled on his boots. It would take Cas at least a day to reach them, which meant cooling their heels here. Slipping quietly out of the room, he headed out to the car and off to the nearest diner or fast food joint he could find.

When he returned to the room an hour later, he found Sam had shifted slightly. Dean set the coffee and sandwiches down on the table. It only required a touch to Sam’s shoulder to wake him and he glared blearily at Dean.

“Breakfast, Sammy.” Dean told him, and Sam tentatively swung his legs off the bed. Dean helped him rise and hobble over to the table, where he fell upon the food like a starving wolf.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked between bites of sausage biscuit. Sam chewed and grimaced.

“Like Hell. I don’t know if I can travel today.” He turned his head casually, and Dean heard his breathing hitch as he suddenly laid eyes on the still comatose Gabriel. He watched his brother closely. Sam just stared at the archangel, his sandwich forgotten in his hand. Dean cleared his throat and Sam jerked back to awareness of his surroundings. His eyes slid off Gabriel’s form and down to the floor.

“Cas is coming.” Dean told Sam. “I called him last night.”

“Oh?” Sam said, distracted again by the sight of the archangel. Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother, but Sam didn’t seem to notice. Dean waved a hand in front of his face. That got a reaction.

“Cut it out!” Sam complained.

“Going off into a dream world there, Sammy.” Dean prodded. Sam pulled a face at him, then returned his attention to the occupant of the bed.

* * *

After eating, Dean cleared away the wrappers and removed his boots. Propping himself up on the bed, he pulled out his phone and tapped away at it for a few minutes. Sam cast his eyes about for his messenger bag.

“Under the bed,” Dean said without looking up. Sam grinned, then faltered at the thought of moving from the chair. He fidgeted for a moment, until Dean sighed, fished the bag out and shoved it towards Sam’s chair. Grateful, Sam flashed Dean a smile then pulled his laptop out of the bag. He called up his email and began scanning through. Dean’s phone started buzzing and he answered it promptly.

“Hey Cas, what’s up?” Sam couldn’t hear the angel’s reply, but Dean’s reply was confused.

“What? How did you manage that?” Dean was shaking his head, but seemed amused so Sam figured it couldn’t be too serious. “OK, fine. Look, we’ll take care of it, but right now I need you here.” He punched the end call button and looked up at Sam. “Cas got pulled over by the police.” Sam stared at Dean, incredulous.

“He drives like a nun, what on earth did he get pulled over for?”

“Apparently he was worried about us. So worried in fact that he was doing 110 on I-64.” Dean laughed. Sam raked a hand through his hair.

“Does he even have a driver’s license?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. “Yeah, but it’s fake. I got it for him a few years ago, but it won’t stand up to much scrutiny.”

“Great.” Sam sighed. “Did he get arrested?” Dean shook his head.

“No, but he better keep his nose clean for a while.” Dean looked over at Gabriel before returning his gaze to his brother. “You gonna put some pants on?” Sam glowered.

“What pants? You cut them to ribbons. I didn’t bring a second pair.” Dean smirked and tossed a plastic bag at Sam’s head. Sam caught it awkwardly in one hand and looked inside. To his surprise, inside were a pair of jeans - cheap ones from a big department store, but in his size.  He pulled off the tags and struggled into them, trying not to dislodge the bandage on his leg. He looked up at Dean, feeling like a jerk.

“Hey, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” His brother shrugged.

“No charge.”

* * *

When Sam’s stomach started making rumbling noises, Dean threw him an amused glance. “Hungry, Sammy?” he asked. Sam nodded, it had been a few hours since breakfast and he was injured after all. Dean hauled himself off the bed and grabbed his boots. “There’s not a lot around here, so you can’t be too fussy.” Sam waved a hand airily.

“Whatever, I don’t really care.” Dean swiped his keys off the nightstand and headed out in search of food again.

Sam heaved himself out of the chair and limped over to the bed. Gabriel was so still, it was almost like he was dead. Sam reached out uncertainly to touch his hand to the archangel’s forehead. It was warm and Sam sagged with relief. Unable to remain standing, he lowered himself onto the bed and brushed a few strands of hair away from Gabriel’s face. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the expression on Gabriel’s face looked more content than a few moments ago. Considering he’d been lying in a warehouse for who knew how long, his hair was remarkably soft and Sam’s fingers itched to touch it again. He swallowed, his mouth dry and studied Gabriel’s face. This time his hand seemed to move on its own, brushing his fingertips across Gabriel’s cheek.

The rattle of the door handle made him jump, but he could barely get himself off the bed before Dean shouldered the door open, his hands full of fast food. How long had been sat here staring at the archangel? Flustered, he backed away from the bed, causing Dean’s eyebrows to rise. Dean said nothing, just deposited the bag of food and the soda cups onto the table before toeing off his boots and sitting down. Sam dragged himself over and dug into the bag. It was too greasy and salty but it was food and he was hungry. Dean watched him carefully as he ate. Finally, once he’d discarded the empty burger cartoon into the paper bag, Dean cleared his throat.

“So… you had no idea we would find Gabriel in that warehouse?” Sam’s face settled into an irritated expression.

“No. Of course not. I’d have mentioned that, don’t you think?” Dean shrugged. Sam gritted his teeth. “Gabriel was dead. We knew he was dead. Cas was sure he was gone. I _grie_ …” he broke off and bit the inside of his cheek. _Shit_.

Dean’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. Sam had grieved when Gabriel died? He’d had no idea. Although thinking back, Sam had been awfully quiet for a several days. But it made no sense. Sure, the archangel had come through for them in the end, but was that really enough to make up for everything he’d done to them, to the point that Sam had actually mourned? _What the Hell was going on here?_

“You grieved for him.” he said levelly. “For Gabriel.” Sam took a deep breath.

“Yes,” he said simply. Dean shook his head slowly, in apparent disbelief. Sam braced himself, he really did not want to talk about this.

“Why? After all the crap he put us through, put you through?”

“He did help us, at the end. Faced up to Lucifer, told us how to open the cage.” Sam pointed out. Dean rolled his eyes. _Did Sam think he’d forgotten?_

“That’s lame, Sam. All the people who’ve died over the years, and you grieve for _Gabriel?_ ”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Sam said sullenly, and returned his attention to his computer. It seemed the conversation was over.

* * *

It was several more hours before Cas finally arrived at the motel. Sam had been surly and uncommunicative and the motel TV had such poor reception it was almost unwatchable. When Cas knocked at the door, Dean threw it open and was so pleased to see the angel he couldn’t resist pulling him in for a quick hug, much to Cas’ bewilderment.

“I got here as quick as I could,” he explained. “Is everything alright?” He looked cautiously at Dean, whose face was lined with strain. Cas knew he still had much to learn about human emotions and interactions, but even he could tell that the atmosphere in the room was heavy with unspoken feelings. He stared at the unconscious form of Gabriel on the bed near the bathroom, and with three quick strides was at his side, slinging a duffel bag onto Dean’s bed as he passed. The archangel was still wrapped in the dirty gray blanket he’d been discovered in. Neither Sam nor Dean had been inclined to unwrap him, since it appeared that Gabriel might well be naked underneath. Cas had no such inhibitions, and began to remove the blanket without so much as a word.

Gabriel was indeed nude under the blanket, and his body was covered in giant bruises. Cas froze, staring at the hideous black, blue and purple covering much of his brother’s form. He reached out to touch the archangel’s forehead, and reared back in surprise.

“His Grace is almost gone. But I cannot heal him.” he said in consternation. He looked up at Dean. “We need to clean him up.” Dean gritted his teeth, and headed into the bathroom to fill the tub. Sam finally looked up from the laptop and Cas could see he was in quite a lot of pain, not all of it physical. There was something else too, a pallid sheen to his skin that seemed a little unnatural. He walked over to Sam and placed his fingers on his brow, healing the wounds he had acquired easily. But once in contact with Sam, he could tell that the creature that had bitten him had been venomous, and that was not so easily counteracted. Sam slumped against the table when Cas removed his hand.

“Thanks, Cas.” he said, his voice taut.

“Don’t thank me yet,” the angel replied seriously. “You’ve been poisoned and it’s going to take a few hours to clear it from your system. What attacked you?” Sam shook his head.

“Some kind of giant leech. Horrid thing, gray and slimy. About this big.” Sam held out his arms to indicate the size. Cas frowned.

“I have no idea what that was.” He turned to see Dean open the bathroom door.

“Ready?” Dean asked. Cas gathered Gabriel up in his arms and carried him through to the bathroom. He kicked the door closed behind him. Dean sauntered over to Sam.

“Cas heal you up?” he asked casually, his hand on the back of the empty chair opposite Sam.

“Kinda.” Sam replied. “He says I’ve been poisoned, and it’s going to take time to get rid of it.” Dean’s hand clenched so tightly the wood of the chair he was gripping began to groan with the strain.

“Look, I feel crappy, but I’m not at Death’s door.” Sam reassured him. There was a splashing sound and a shout from the bathroom. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

“I’ve already seen more naked archangel butt than I ever wanted to see.” Dean said sourly. Sam grunted, and levered himself out of his chair.

“I’ll go check on them.” He shuffled over to the bathroom door and rapped sharply. “Cas? You OK in there.”

“I could use some help,” the angel’s muffled voice replied. Sam took a deep breath and opened the door. Gabriel was in the tub, his head leaned against the wall at an uncomfortable angle, his eyes still serenely closed. Cas was kneeling alongside, his clothes soaked.

“Help me get him out.” Cas ordered. Sam snapped to attention and grabbed Gabriel’s ankles. Together, with some difficulty, they finally managed to get Gabriel out of the tub and wrapped up in a bundle of towels. “In the bag I brought with me, there are some spare clothes. Bring them in here.” Sam left the bathroom, and located the duffel bag Cas had referred to. He grabbed the sweatpants, t-shirt and socks and headed back inside. He and Cas wrestled Gabriel into the clothing and then Cas carried him back into the bedroom.

“Angel mojo not working?” Dean asked from his seat at the table.

“Apparently not.” Cas said balefully. “It’s like he’s resisting me. Which depleted as his Grace is, he shouldn’t be able to do.”

“We should hit the road,” Sam said from the bathroom doorway. Dean nodded and grabbed his boots from under the bed.

* * *

The drive back to the bunker was a long one. Sam slept most of the way in the backseat of the Impala, letting the poison work out of his system. Cas called more than once to ask if they wanted to stop for for a few hours sleep, but Dean was insistent on driving right through the night. So when they finally pulled into the bunker garage, Dean was almost delirious with exhaustion. Cas stared at him disapprovingly.

“We should have stopped, Dean.” he intoned. Dean had flicked a look to Sam before shaking his head.

“I’m OK. Let’s just get Gabriel inside.” He opened the car door and helped Cas lift the comatose archangel out. They headed inside the bunker, Sam trailing behind them.

“Where do you want me to take him?” Cas asked. Dean thought for a moment.

“Let’s put him in Sam’s room for now. It’s closest and the bed is already made up.”

* * *

Dean peeked into Sam’s room, where they had deposited the unconscious Gabriel on Sam’s bed. Sam had bitched about that of course, why did it have to be his bed, but Dean had explained, very reasonably in his view, that Sam was the one who had wanted to rescue the archangel and therefore Gabriel was now his responsibility.

Cas was slumped on the floor beside the bed, Gabriel’s left hand clasped in Cas’, his eyes closed and his lips moving slightly as if in prayer. Which was not that unlikely, all things considered. Dean nudged Cas with his toe and the angel’s eyes opened immediately. He smiled at Dean but tension carved deep lines around his eyes and across his forehead.

“How is he?” Dean asked. Cas sighed and gestured towards the bed with his free hand.

“There’s no change. We don’t know how long he has been in this condition and I don’t know if he will ever wake up. Gabriel’s powerful, or he was, but his Grace is diminished almost to nothing and the effects of that long term are not good.” Cas gave Dean a pleading look, but Dean had no idea how to help.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, unsurprised when Cas shook his head. “Look, why don’t you take a break.” He held up a hand when Cas shook his head again, “I’ve had my four hours, I’m good. I can stay and watch him for a while if you don’t want to leave him alone. Go find Sammy, he’s off sulking somewhere.” He held out his hand and pulled the angel to his feet and Cas gave him a grateful look.

“Dean.” he said simply. Nothing more needed to be said. Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder and settled down on the chair near the bed.

The hallway was quiet and Cas considered where to look for Sam first. If he had been in the library, Dean would have said so, which meant he was hiding somewhere else. But a search of the basement, a number of storage rooms, the kitchen, TV room and even Dean’s room all yielded no sign of Sam. Cas frowned, and headed to the garage. At first it seemed that the garage was also empty, but he turned to leave when he noticed that the back windows of the Impala were cracked open. Walking cautiously over to the car, he found Sam curled up in the back seat. Given his height, that did not look at all comfortable. Cas tapped at the window and Sam’s eyes opened. _Not asleep then._

“What’s up?” Sam demanded. “Is he awake?” Cas peered at the younger Winchester curiously. He sounded concerned, but if he was so worried, why was he hiding out here in the garage?

“There’s no change,” Cas told him. “Dean was wondering where you had gone and I needed to take a break. Why are you sleeping in the car?”

“Well, my bed is taken right now.” Sam said tartly. Then he sighed, “I’m sorry, Cas. It’s not your fault.”

“What’s the problem, Sam?” the angel asked gently. Sam shook his head, as if to clear it of cobwebs.

“I’m not sure really. I guess I’m more than a little weirded out, that’s all. And for me, that’s saying something.” He gave Cas a quick grin and was rewarded with a small smile in return.

“So, “ he continued, gauging Cas’ reaction to his words, “I sort of had an idea. But I don’t want you to say anything to Dean about it.” At the angel’s disapproving look, he backtracked. “Not immediately at least. Not until you and I have thought this through a bit. Cas gave a reluctant nod, clearly uncomfortable with concealing anything from Dean. Sam mentally rolled his eyes.

“Look, we went to that warehouse based on the clues you found in the notebook, and some stuff I picked up in my dreams, or visions or whatever. None of us expected to find Gabriel there. So how did he know I was coming?” Sam pulled himself out of the car and closed the door. He leaned against the trunk, and folded his arms.

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, his brow creased. “Why do you think he knew you were coming?”

“When I found him, his eyes opened for just a moment. And he said, ‘You’re finally here.’. Like he’d been waiting for me.” Sam frowned at Cas, who gave a half-shrug.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” he offered. Sam shook his head emphatically.

“He called me by name, Cas. He knew.” The angel’s eyes widened suddenly and he drew in a gasp. Sam grabbed him by the arm before Cas could pull away.

“You know, don’t you. _Tell me_.” Cas was shaking his head, it seemed more in denial of a sudden evident truth than in refusing Sam’s demand.

“Cut it out, Sam,” Dean’s voice growled from the doorway. Sam and Cas both looked up in surprise. “I heard yelling. What’s going on?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Sam said with feeling. “Ask him.” Dean’s eyes swivelled to the horrified looking angel.

“Dean, I,I…” Cas broke off. Dean leveled a look at him and he rallied. “I’m sorry, Sam. Dean and I were going to discuss this with you, but events rather overtook us.” Sam shot a look of disbelief at his brother, but Dean looked flummoxed.

“I think it’s _his_ Grace anchor.” Cas said, by way of explanation. Sam couldn’t understand what the angel was getting at, but Dean’s expression changed instantly to one of horror and confusion.

“ _His_?” Dean demanded. “Cas, are you sure?”

Sam’s gaze flicked between Cas and Dean. Hadn’t they agreed on no more secrets? What were they keeping from him now? Dean made a helpless gesture and indicated to Cas that he ought to explain.

“You know we think the scar on your chest is the mark of a Grace anchor, and that Dean and I thought it might have been Gadreel’s.” Cas began. “But we also had a more terrifying thought, that it might be Lucifer’s.”

“When were you planning on getting around to mentioning _that_?” Sam growled. Then he paused. ”...but you don’t think that now, do you?” Sam said slowly, narrowing his eyes. Cas nodded.

“No.” Sam looked at Dean, who was edging towards Cas in a protective way that under other circumstances might have made Sam smile.

“So, who do you think it is?” Sam demanded. But then his brain caught up and he stopped with a gasp. Without thinking he launched himself at Cas, grasping the angel’s lapels and thrusting him backwards towards a wall. Dean yelled something incoherent and Cas stared steadily into Sam’s eyes. Realizing the angel had let him manhandle him to allow him to blow off the steam of his anger, Sam relented and stepped back.

“You think the anchor was placed by Gabriel.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How long have you suspected?”

“The moment you told me Gabriel was expecting you.” Cas explained.

“I figured it out when I came in and Cas mentioned the anchor.” Dean added. Sam resolved never to underestimate his brother again. He was smarter than he liked to appear. Sam felt dizzy and staggered a little.

“Why would Gabriel do this to me? And when? We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together.” Sam demanded. Dean exchanged a look with Cas.

“We uh, we looked into that. Looked through some old photos of you, umm, with your shirt off.” Dean stuttered and Sam blinked.

“There are a lot of those?” he said puzzled. Dean and Cas both shook their heads.

“No, but there were enough to get a general timeframe.” Cas replied. “You did not have the mark before Lucifer rose. The first time we saw it was a picture of you at a psychiatric hospital.” Sam mulled this over.

“The wraith hunt? OK.” He glanced back and forth between his brother and the angel. “Then that means Gabriel must have done this when we were trapped in TV Land.” Dean frowned.

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, I already had the mark the last time we saw him before he died,” Sam’s voice cracked a little and Dean’s frown got deeper. “The Elysian Fields Motel was after the wraith hunt. And the time we saw him before TV Land, was when he was messing with us at the Mystery Spot, that was long before Lucifer rose.”

“He’s right, Dean. Unless Gabriel interacted with you at some other time in between and you didn’t know, then that has to be when he placed the anchor.” Cas agreed. Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“OK, let’s regroup in the library. I think we need to know more about how these anchor things work.”

 

 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys and Cas get Gabriel back to the bunker and the mystery of Sam's Grace anchor continues

Dean placed a bottle of bourbon and three glasses on the table. He poured a generous amount into two glasses and then looked up at Cas. The angel gave a small shake of his head and Dean shrugged. He shoved one glass at his brother, then picked up his and downed it in one. Refilling the glass, he sat down heavily in a chair and faced the angel.

“OK, Cas. Tell us more about these Grace anchors. How are they made?” Cas leaned back in his chair and looked somberly at the brothers.

“It’s not complicated, but there are a number of steps that must be completed to a specific schedule. First of all, the angel selects an anchor and tests them for compatibility. For angel anchors, this is about a harmonizing of Graces. For human anchors, the candidate must be capable of being a vessel,” he paused and bit his lip. Sam waved him on. “It is also preferable that the anchor feel some kind of positive feeling towards the angel.” Dean spluttered and held up a hand.

“OK, hold up. Sam, based on our discussion in Maryland about how you grieved for Gabriel when he died,” his gaze slipped to Cas for a moment then returned to his brother. “How did you feel about him when he trapped us in TV Land? Because I was all kinds of pissed off, and I don’t understand how you could feel any different.”

“Your memory’s faulty,” Sam said gruffly. “If you remember, I wanted to seek his help with the Apocalypse. Of course we only thought he was the Trickster then. But for whatever reason, I felt that he might be on board with what we wanted to do. Later, when we trapped him and discovered he was actually Gabriel, I felt kinda sorry for him. Watching him stand there and talk about the pain his warring family had inflicted on him…it broke my heart.” Sam’s eyes were distant and Dean exchanged another look with Cas. The angel shot a curious glance at Sam, then nodded.

“That’s probably sufficient for the purposes of the ritual. For humans, the second step requires the angel and the prospective anchor to exchange a small amount of blood.”

“What!” Sam stood up suddenly, his chair overturning with the rapidity of the movement. Dizziness swept over him and he leaned on the table, breathing heavily. _This was too much._ Dean retrieved Sam’s chair and carefully guided his brother back into it. His own temper was thrumming under his skin now, but Sam needed him to keep his cool.

“Hey, Sammy. Keep it together, you’re OK.” He gripped Sam’s shoulder for a moment before returning his attention to Cas, who was twisting his hands in distress. “Keep going, Cas.”

“That’s the first problem I have with this theory. There’s no way Gabriel could have done the exchange with you without you consenting,” the angel admitted uncomfortably. “Finally, the angel must pledge an oath to protect the anchor and the anchor in return accepts the mark. Consent, both to the blood exchange and to the acceptance of the mark is crucial.”

“OK,” Dean interrupted. “Sam and I were together throughout the whole TV Land escapade, I don’t think we were ever separated.”

“Well, except for when he turned me into the Impala,” Sam grunted.

“Yeah, but only for a few minutes. Surely that’s not enough time?” Dean scrunched up his face as he thought.

“Angels can manipulate time,” Cas reminded him. “If Gabriel needed to, I’m sure he could have manipulated the situation so that he could talk to Sam and perform the anchoring ritual.”

“Do you remember giving Gabriel permission to do any of this?” Dean asked. But even before Sam shook his head, he knew what the answer would be. “See, that’s where this all falls apart. Sam has never consented for Gabriel to do anything. So maybe this isn’t Gabriel’s mark after all.”

“It’s still the best explanation we have,” Cas replied. “Well, that or Lucifer.” He made a moue of distaste and Dean found himself staring at Cas’ mouth.

“But I didn’t give Lucifer permission to do this either,” Sam objected.

“It’s a puzzle,” Cas admitted. “Lucifer or Gabriel, or another angel entirely, that lack of consent should mean that the Grace anchor shouldn’t exist.”

“I hate puzzles.” Dean announced, dragging his errant gaze away from Cas’ lips.

“I’m going to go check on Gabriel.” Sam announced.

* * *

Sam turned on the bedside lamp, filling his room with warm golden light. Gabriel lay on the bed in the same position as the last time Sam had seen him, but in this light he seemed more alive than he had before. The reddish highlights in his hair twinkled in the lamplight and for some reason that made Sam’s head swim. Rather than fall over, he sank to the floor next to the bed. Gabriel’s hand lay on the mattress near his head and for a moment Sam thought he saw the fingers twitch. But staring at them, they did not move again and Sam wondered if he had imagined it. His eyelids drooped, he’d had very little sleep and he really was very tired, surely it couldn’t hurt to just rest his eyes for a few moments…

The library was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of pages as Cas studied the book in front of him. Dean fidgeted in his chair and jumped when Cas reached out without looking to place a hand on his knee.

“Give Sam a few more minutes before you go after him.” the angel advised. Dean looked mutinous. He stared at the hand on his knee and swallowed. He needed another drink. Dean twitched again and Cas looked up this time. Dean looked pointedly at Cas’ hand and the angel slowly withdrew it, giving Dean an indecipherable look. Now completely off-base, Dean leaped to his feet and headed out to Sam’s room.

A light tap on the door yielded no sound, so Dean carefully opened it a crack, poised for anything. The lamp was on and the scene it illuminated punched the air out of Dean’s lungs. Sam was on the floor next to the bed, his head on the mattress nestled into Gabriel’s shoulder.Gabriel’s arm was slung protectively around Sam’s neck, his hand resting on Sam’s chest. There was a slight smile on Sam’s face and an equally contented look on Gabriel’s. Dean opened his mouth, though he barely knew what he was going to say when a hand slapped firmly across his mouth and he was dragged bodily away from Sam’s room. Dean’s instincts caught fire and he struggled with his assailant for a moment until Cas’ voice growled in his ear.

“It’s me, Dean.” Cas released him and Dean pushed further away.

“What the Hell, Cas?” he cried. The angel advanced on him, and Dean shrank back, until he was pinned against the wall. Cas’ hands were planted either side of his head and he glowered down at Dean.

“Leave. Them. Alone.” Cas stated, enunciating each word precisely. Dean couldn’t move. Cas’ entire body was pressed against him and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. Dean wheezed incoherently and then stopped breathing altogether when he saw Cas’ pupils dilate. _Oh God, oh God, oh God_ , his brain repeated uselessly. He swallowed and Cas watched the movement of his throat with an intensity that made Dean’s skin feel too hot and too tight. His mouth dry, he licked his lips and the angel switched his stare to Dean’s mouth. Then Cas blinked and shoved himself backwards away from Dean, the moment in pieces between them. Dean stared at the floor, struggling to bring his breathing under control. When he looked up, Cas had gone.

* * *

Dean hunched on his bed, nursing the bottle of bourbon he’d liberated from the library. He’d been drinking steadily since his encounter with Cas and there was barely another mouthful left. A light tap at his door roused him from the morose contemplation of his knees. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, paralyzed by a flood of indecision. If that was Cas, did he want to speak to him right now? The tap came again, accompanied by Sam’s voice.

“Dean? I know you’re in there.” _Dammit, Sammy._

“It’s open,” he slurred. The door handle turned and Sam slipped into the room. He studied his brother with a frown.

“Party of one?” Sam asked, his voice deliberately light. Dean squinted at the remaining whisky then slugged it back and discarded the bottle onto the nightstand. When Dean remained silent, Sam’s brow furrowed. “You OK?”

“Course. ‘m great.” He blinked at Sam owlishly. “Good snuggle?” he added slyly. Sam rolled his eyes.

“We’re not talking about me. It’s barely 3pm and you’re three sheets to the wind. What’s going on?” Sam arms were folded across his chest and his jaw was set. _Uh oh._

“Nuthin’. Why’re y’always up in m’face?” A muscle twitched in Sam’s cheek.

“Cas is AWOL, you’re so drunk you’re barely intelligible. All in the space of,” Sam checked his watch, “four hours. Did you guys have a fight?”

“Nuh uh.” Dean said stubbornly. “Jus’ wanned a drink isall.” Sam threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fine. Sit here and marinate in whisky and pigheadedness. I’m going to go find Cas.” He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him. Dean wondered if there was any more liquor in the bunker.

* * *

A thorough search of the bunker revealed no sign of Cas. Of course, since the angel could become invisible, that didn’t mean he wasn’t hiding somewhere. _He hasn’t taken a car, and flying is out of the question,_ Sam mused to himself. _Maybe he went for a walk?_

Outside, the sun was low in the sky and the light was less than ideal for hunting someone who probably did not want to be found. Warm reds and oranges were beginning to paint the trees and stain the clouds. Sam frowned at the countryside around him, the fall air crisp and cold. Cas could be literally anywhere, but he could hardly return to the bunker until he’d at least tried to find him. A flash of movement caught Sam’s eye, over by a weeping willow a quarter-mile or so away. Lacking any other leads, he headed in that direction.

As he got closer to the tree, he became aware of how silent it was. No birds singing or insects chirping or a thousand other sounds that should have made up the audible landscape. Cas was sat at the base of the tree, his head hanging down and his hands clasped across his stomach, almost as though he were taking a nap. Sam moved towards him carefully, his boots snapping a few fallen twigs and Cas’ head came up at the sound. His face was pale, but composed.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to intrude. But it is getting late.” He indicated the setting sun with a toss of his head.

“Of course. You’re right.” Cas agreed. Sam offered his hand to him and Cas grasped it firmly and pulled himself to his feet. Sam eyed him warily.

“What’s going on Cas? In the space of a couple hours, Dean’s drunk himself into a stupor and you’re hanging around out here in the open, when there are any number of people who want you dead.” The angel wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Did something...happen...between you two?” Sam asked tentatively.

“No!” Cas exclaimed. “Umm. Yes. Maybe. Not really.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. All this drama was giving him a headache.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offered, not really expecting the angel to take him up on it so he was surprised when Cas nodded.

“Maybe it would be good to talk,” he said, then immediately fell silent. Sam waited as the angel gathered his thoughts.

“Dean was checking on you and Gabriel,” he began. Sam flushed. He knew Dean had seen him dozing with Gabriel’s arm wrapped around him from his brother’s snarky comment. Apparently Cas had seen it too. “He was going to disturb you, so I pulled him away, rather forcefully.” the angel continued, his own face reddening. “I should have had more control.” Sam looked at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” Cas looked away and wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself and breathing rapidly.

“I had pinned him against the wall.” Cas’ voice was so low now Sam had to strain to hear it. “The feel of him pressed beneath me, I…” Sam’s cheeks burned, they were suddenly deep into TMI territory but he didn’t know how to retreat without upsetting Cas. The angel took a deep breath. “I may have made Dean aware of my...interest.” he finished weakly.

“And Dean reacted badly?” Sam asked, mentally cursing his ignorant brother.

“No--not really. He just looked at me, I suppose he was too shocked to react.” Cas explained. “But you said he went off and got drunk, so he’s probably disgusted with me.” Sam was doubtful. If Dean had been unwelcoming of Cas’ advances, he would have made it plain. The way Cas described the encounter, and the way his brother crawled into a bottle in the aftermath suggested Dean was struggling with his feelings, sure, but Sam thought it was more likely he was reacting to an identity crisis than disgust with Cas.

“I don’t think so, Cas…”

“I’ve broken our friendship,” the angel said sorrowfully, hugging himself even tighter.

“No, no. Even if Dean was completely opposed to the idea, he’s not an asshole.” Sam said firmly. “Well, not a complete asshole,” he amended. “If I’m wrong about him, and he sees you as a friend and brother and nothing more, one clumsy flirtation from you is not going to kill it stone dead. It’ll be uncomfortable for a while, but he’ll get over it.” Cas nodded, his body relaxing a little.

“You’re saying I can fix it?” Sam shrugged.

“I’m saying it’s not broken. Take it easy, try to act naturally around him and you’ll soon see where the land lies.” Sam crossed his fingers behind his back as he said this, Dean could be a tough nut to crack but what else could he say? He was afraid the angel had been on the verge of leaving altogether. “You coming back inside?” Cas shook his head.

“I want to watch the sun set. Just give me a few more minutes.” Sam gave him a searching look, but saw no reason to doubt the angel’s word.

“OK. Don’t stay out too long.” His feet crunching, he trudged back to the bunker. _What a mess._


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas deal with the aftermath of their encounter in the hallway (or not) and Sam works on researching Gabriel's condition

Sam returned to the library to find Dean swaying against a chair, searching through his coat.

“Where the Hell are my damn keys, Sammy?” he demanded. Sam felt in his pocket.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve still got them. Sorry,” he admitted. Dean held out his hand.

“Hand ‘em over. I’m goin’ out.”

Sam stepped back, dismayed. Dean was in no state to drive. Or walk, for that matter. “No way, Dean. You’re hammered.”

“I can still drive,” his brother slurred defiantly, tilting a little to one side.

“I doubt that, but even if you could, what if you got pulled over? Low profile, remember?” Sam gaped as Dean rocked back on his heels and almost keeled over. “Anyway, it looks like you’ve had enough.”

“I’m still cons...con.... I’m still awake. So no, I haven’t.” Dean declared. Sam breathed in and counted to ten. Behind him he heard Cas clear his throat and looked over his shoulder to see the angel hovering near the bottom of the stairs. Dean turned his head and dragged himself towards the door. He never made it. Halfway across the room, he slumped to his knees and gracelessly toppled to the floor.

“Dean!” Cas and Sam cried in unison, dashing to his side. Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead. His skin was flushed and he was panting. The angel frowned. “He’s gone past drunkenness and into full alcohol poisoning,” he announced.   
“Can you do anything for him?” Sam pleaded. Cas nodded.

“I can clear the alcohol out of his system. But it’s all or nothing.” Sam grimaced in comprehension. If Cas did this, Dean would be stone cold sober again, and that might not actually be much better. He looked curiously at Cas.

“How come you didn’t do that when he was really drunk the other night?” A guilty look settled on the angel’s face before he looked away. “You were enjoying it too much,” Sam realized. “His inhibitions were lowered, he was letting you touch him and be close to him, and you couldn’t resist.” Cas stiffened.

“You make me sound like a rapist,” he snarled. Sam held up his hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Just that he was more relaxed, that’s all.” He looked at Dean, who was drooling on the floor. “OK, let’s do this.” He watched Cas touch Dean’s face again, this time stroking his hand down his jaw with an unfathomable look on his face. Dean jerked under his touch and his eyes flew open.

“What the Hell?” He scrambled away from Cas and pulled himself to his feet. His eyes flew to Sam, still kneeling on the floor, back to Cas and then finally settled on Sam again. “You harshing my buzz?” Sam rolled his eyes so hard it felt like they might roll right out of their sockets.

“You actually managed to poison yourself. Cas burned the alcohol out of your system. You know, so you wouldn’t die.” He’d had about enough of this. He drew himself up off the floor and stalked out of the room. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he saw Dean and Cas were staring at each other. He opened his mouth, but thought better of it, and headed off to his room.

* * *

Sitting in a chair next to his bed, Sam gazed at the insensate archangel who was still lying serenely, oblivious to the outside world. Sam let himself really look at Gabriel, wishing his eyes would open.

“They say when someone is in a coma, they can still be aware of the things going on around them,” he told the silent form. “Well, I don’t know if that applies to angels, but honestly, I don’t care. Dean and Cas are making me crazy and it’s either come in here and talk to you or knock their heads together.” He stared at Gabriel’s face - did his lips just twitch? Sam watched them closely as he continued to talk. “I mean, it’s mostly Dean’s fault. If he’d just get over the macho bullshit…” Sam raked a hand through his hair, still watching Gabriel’s mouth. “You know how it is to have hard-headed brothers.” There! Definitely a twitch. Sam took a deep breath and took Gabriel’s hand. He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles, and his breath caught when the fingers closed briefly over his.

“Gabriel! Can you hear me?” he asked, his voice low. There was no further response. Sam yawned sleepily. He was tired from sleeping in chairs and the backseats of cars, his tall frame wasn’t suited to it. “I dunno. Cas is in love with Dean, I think we can all agree on that. Dean, though? I know my brother better than anyone, and I have no idea what’s going on in his head. Cas apparently made his feelings towards Dean known today. I don’t really know what that means, and I don’t wanna know. Typical Dean, he crawled inside a bottle -  I haven’t seen Dean that drunk in a really long time. Cas literally had to purge him with angel mojo, he drank so much.

“So either, Dean is secretly in love with Cas, or at least on the way there and is just repressing like crazy, or he doesn’t look at Cas that way at all, and is hoping ignoring the issue will make it go away. I wonder if he even knows himself which it is.”

* * *

Cas stared warily at Dean, like he was a wild animal. Which, knowing his temper, was not entirely unfair. Dean bit his lip, as a man not often given to introspection, considering his feelings towards the angel was like swallowing broken glass. But Cas was important to him, and that moment in the hallway outside Sam’s room had felt...different. Cas had never really grasped the concept of personal space, at least not where Dean was concerned, and snarky comments from wise-ass angels and smug little brothers aside, he’d had no reason to believe there was anything else to the angel’s behavior than a lack of understanding of human social niceties. But for a split-second in the hallway, Cas pressed firmly against him, looming over him even though technically Dean was taller, he had been sure there had been something else. Something more. Something in the way the angel’s pupils had widened, how his breathing had become ragged and how he’d fixated on Dean’s mouth. If it had been anyone else, Dean was certain the moment would have concluded with a kiss, not fleeing down the corridor. And if he was brutally honest with himself about it, it was not the first time that a kind of tension had ratcheted up between them. Cas was not really very experienced in sexual matters... _gah_! Dean cut that thought off. This was his friend. And an Angel of the Lord. He had no business thinking about him in this way. _Even if he thinks about you that way_ , a snide Sam-like voice in his head asked. He breathed carefully through his nose and counted to ten. The Sam-voice had a point. What if Cas’ lack of experience meant he wanted to experiment? Dean’s mouth tightened at the thought. He did not want to be an experiment, to be played with and later discarded. What _that_ meant Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to examine.

“I’m sorry.” Cas said suddenly. Dean jerked in surprise.

“For what? You uh, you did nothing wrong.” The angel studied him and Dean squirmed.

“I have made you uncomfortable. I apologize. Sam assures me that you will forgive me for--” Cas broke off for a moment, then rallied. “For embarrassing you. It will not happen again.”

“Cas, I--” The angel held up his hand.

“I don’t expect you to absolve me right away. You need time, I understand that. I will give you all the space you need. Your friendship is important to me, Dean.” Cas began to back away and Dean felt like he’d lost all control of the situation, if he’d ever had it.

“Wait, Cas. Stop. Hold on a second.” He rubbed a hand over his face.

“It’s all right, Dean.” Cas said. “Take your time.” He continued to back out of the room and was gone.

“Dammit!”

* * *

_Sammy_ …

Sam blinked in surprise. He must have fallen asleep and now he was having the dream again? But they’d rescued Gabriel, what else could the dream tell him? The corridor was as black as ever, but as he crept towards the room where the archangel had been imprisoned, he could hear voices. He moved as silently as he could, avoiding the piles of trash as much as possible until he was close enough to hear.

“This was a waste of time!” Metatron’s voice exclaimed. “Unless he wakes up, what use is he?”

“I don’t know what went wrong,” said another voice. Sam dared a peek around the door and had to suppress a gasp at the sight of himself pacing back and forth in front of the fiery circle. “I was certain we had it right this time. The Grace anchor inside Sam Winchester is well established and his connection with Gabriel is strong. His memories of Gabriel are strangely complex, it’s true but his grief when Lucifer killed him was real and heartfelt. Perhaps my presence within complicated the situation, but when we performed the ritual I felt the strength of his feelings. Whether he knows it or not, Sam holds considerable affection for Gabriel.” There was a derisive snort.

“This ridiculous theory of yours that this sap is in love with Gabriel?” Metatron’s voice was contemptuous. “Really, humanity’s capacity for self-delusion and self-aggrandizement knows no bounds.”

“You sound like Raphael.” Gadreel-Sam observed. “I see no reason Sam Winchester shouldn’t be in love with Gabriel if he chooses.”

“Because it’s ridiculous, that’s why! Why would an archangel of Gabriel’s power be remotely interested in some whiny human, let alone the actual True Vessel of Lucifer.” Metatron’s voice was getting louder and Sam feared he was heading his way. He tensed but the door did not open.

“I’ve explained my thinking on Gabriel’s behavior here on earth before. And he did place this Grace anchor in Sam.” Gadreel-Sam pointed out.

“Yes he did, and I would very much like to know why! That’s why we started this project in the first place. But we cannot interrogate him, or convince him to join us if he remains comatose!” Sam heard the scrape of shoes against the floor and dared another glance through the doorway. Metatron was standing, hands on hips staring at the burning holy oil. Gadreel-Sam had stopped pacing and was stood with his back to the door. _This was so weird watching himself, but not himself._

“Well, I think we have to move on to plan B.” Gadreel-Sam said. “You said you could produce a decent illusion of Gabriel, pulled from Sam’s memories. That will have to be enough. Castiel hasn’t seen Gabriel in centuries, it will be good enough to fool him.” His voice dripped with disdain. Sam had no idea Gadreel disliked Cas so much.

“Let’s get out of this stinking Hell-hole. We have much still to do.” Metatron agreed. Sam gasped and then awoke with a start.

* * *

Sam stared at the ceiling, struggling to get his breathing under control. This dream had been more like a memory. Could it be Gabriel’s memory, gathered unconsciously as he lay trapped in that awful warehouse? But how would Sam be getting Gabriel’s memories? The dream had answered some questions, even if it had raised others. He needed to tell Cas and Dean about this, if of course they were still speaking to each other. He sighed and as he did so he became aware that he was lying flat on his back, with a feeling of warmth and weight against his right side. When had he gotten into bed next to Gabriel? He turned his head to see the archangel curled up against his body, tucked under Sam’s arm with his head resting on Sam’s shoulder. Sam swallowed, Metatron’s sneering words echoing through his head and he grimaced. He hadn’t been in love with Gabriel, despite what Gadreel said. The very idea was idiotic. Metatron was right, even if Sam did feel some attraction to Gabriel, _which he totally wasn’t saying he did_ , there’s no way Gabriel would return that interest. Except he had an armful of warm archangel _right now_ and Sam was painfully aware that at least some parts of him considered that very interesting indeed. He sneered at himself, Gabriel was in a coma for God’s sake! Gingerly, he disengaged himself and started to head for the kitchen to find something to eat. At which point he realized that a cold shower might be in order first.

* * *

Sam poked his head nervously around the door to the library but it was empty. He dumped his laptop on the table, popped open the can of diet Coke in his hand and settled down to his research. He’d exhausted the online options of lore on archangels, and angels in general. Unsurprisingly, “How to Care for Your Archangel in a Coma” was not top of the best-seller lists. He looked up at the shelves of books, but he knew the Men of Letters had very little angel lore that was any different to what was on the internet. He frowned, something Dean had said tickling the back of his mind. When he and Cas had visited Martin Delaval in Arkansas, to get parts for the Impala, Dean had said something about Martin using a cane inscribed with runes that had glowed in Cas’ presence. Martin seemed to understand that the cane was giving him a message, however cryptically he’d relayed it to his brother and had claimed his mother had brought the cane from England. But without knowing his mother’s name, in particular her maiden name, that was not much help. He dug into his pocket for his phone.

“Martin’s Auto-parts and Salvage,” the older man’s voice was gruff and reminded Sam so much of Bobby, he struggled to respond.

“Hi, uh. Martin. Uh, this is Sam Winchester.” He stuttered. There was a pause.

“Sam. How are you, boy?”

“Good, I’m good. Look, Dean and I were talking…” He started but Martin’s voice cut in.

“He all right, yer brother?” Martin asked, his voice spiked with urgency. Sam’s forehead wrinkled.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, he’s fine. Why?” The line was silent again. “Martin?”

“I’m here. Go ahead, boy.”

“OK, so Dean told me about your gout, that you have to use a cane to move around.” This time the silence at the end of the phone was protracted. Sam waited.

“Oh, that. Huh, brighter than he looks, yer brother.” Martin said at last.

“What? What do you mean?” Sam asked, a cold sensation trickling down his spine. There was a sigh.

“This isn’t about him and the angel he brought along with him?” Martin asked, his voice taut with strain. Sam was starting to become alarmed, a simple query hunter-to-hunter had taken on an extra dimension involving his brother and Cas, and Sam was already antsy about that situation. He swallowed nervously, uncertain how to proceed.

“No, it’s not, not really, but if you’ve something to say, I’d like to hear it,” he tried.

“Dean’s said nothing?” Martin responded. “Then it’s probably nothing.”

“Look, when my brother and Cas visited you, Dean said your cane had these runes on it. That glowed and you said something to him about Cas. You knew he was an angel instantly. I wanted to know more about the cane. That’s all.” There was a soft chuckle.

“You always were the bookish one,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I know but it’s not much. My mother’s family, the Delaval’s, are from the north of England. The story is that back in the 18th century two estates were joined and the family were cursed, that as long as the estate of Ford was united with the estate of Seaton Delaval, no male of the family would die peacefully in his bed. Nobody knows exactly why they were cursed, there’s some talk of a carved ram’s head in some of the tales so maybe it was a cursed object, but the curse was real. Every one of the males in the family died in some extraordinary way, until Edward Delaval split up the two estates and the curse appeared to lift. The estates passed into other hands and the stories into local legends. My mother told me that the family had a number of supernatural artifacts, which she brought with her when she moved here with my father.”

“Wait a second,” Sam interrupted. “If your mother’s name was Delaval, how come that’s your name too. Wouldn’t she have changed her name when they got married?”

“Well, see that’s another strange tale. My mother claimed that if she gave up the name, she would give up her birthright. Not just the artifacts but something else, a kind of sixth sense that she had. My father had been brought up by an abusive father, his mother had died in childbirth. So he was happy to shed the name of the man who’d made his life a living Hell growing up. My daughter had the same sixth sense has my mother, it runs in the female side of the family. It didn’t save her life.” The line was silent once more and Sam felt guilty for bringing up the old man’s grief again.

“I’m sorry, Martin.” he said inadequately.

“Bah. It’s not your fault, boy. You asked about the cane. It’s made from English Oak, one of the three magic woods in English lore. The cane is carved with Norse magical runes, powerful ones, which grant the bearer the gift of understanding. In practical terms, it means I can identify any supernatural creature I meet, and detect the traces and origin of magical work and supernatural marks, although not the intent. That sounds very useful for a hunter does it not?”

“Were the Delavals hunters? Is that how they were cursed?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. But their collection of artifacts would make much more sense if they were.”

“So what does this have to do with Dean?” Sam pressed.  Martin sighed.

“Dean carries a lot of traces of the supernatural, which for a hunter is not that surprising. But there is some kind of mark of that angel’s power too. That’s what the cane told me.” Sam sagged with relief. The cane must be detecting the Enochian carvings on Dean’s ribs, that Cas had put on both of them to hide them from the angels after Sam had released Lucifer.

“It’s OK, Martin. We know what that is. There’s no need to worry about it,” Sam told him.

“OK, boy. If you say so. Look, I really have to go, is there anything else you need?”

“Well,” Sam hedged. “I was hoping you might know something about angels. Like their physiology when they’re in a vessel.”

“That angel of Dean’s is sick? Angel’s don’t get sick.” Martin said, his voice puzzled and a little strained.

“No, Cas is fine. Uh, this is another angel. He’s in a coma and we can’t wake him. Cas doesn’t know what to do.” Martin made a startled noise.

“You’ve got an angel sidekick and another an angel in a coma...boy, your life is weird. No, angels can’t go into comas unless their Grace is drained almost to nothing.”

“Yeah, we figured that much out. But how do we wake him up?”

“Depends what happened to his Grace. Was it stolen?” Sam bit his lip, not sure he wanted to reveal how Gabriel had ended up in his current condition. “How long have we known each other, boy? And how long did I know Bobby before that? I’m not going to blab about your angelic version of the Red Cross to anyone.”

“He was killed and resurrected. We think the resurrection has something to do with why his Grace is so low.” Martin whistled in surprise.

“Resurrected! How?”

“I don’t know the details,” Sam explained, “but apparently it’s possible through the use of a Grace anchor.”

“A Grace anchor...” Martin mused. “That’s some esoteric shit right there. Who was the carrier?”

“Uh, why do you ask?”

“You need to find out which angel it was. See if they will help you - they can feed Grace through the anchor’s link.” Sam thought furiously for a moment.

“Another angel?” he said, keeping his voice casual. “It couldn’t be a human, for example?”

“A human, carrying a Grace anchor? Sam, is there something you want to tell me?”

“I was just speculating,” Sam said hurriedly. _Martin was smart, he needed to be careful._

“Well, assuming that is even possible, and none of the lore I’ve read suggests it is, then you have a problem. Humans don’t have Grace, so that won’t work. But if it is a human, and you find them, see if you can convince them to do a few days of angel sitting. Proximity to the anchor might help the angel wake up at least.”

“OK, We’ll look into that. Thanks, Martin.”

“Yer welcome. Sam,” Martin’s voice had taken on a note of urgency. “I don’t know what you boys are mixed up in, but be careful. Humans are not meant to fool around in angel business.”

“I know. Don’t worry. We’ll be careful,” Sam said, feeling uncomfortable. He hung up and stared at the screensaver on his laptop.

* * *

He found Dean in the TV room, watching Game of Thrones. The first season again, by the looks of it. Dean was sitting morosely on the couch, and Sam wasn’t sure he was even seeing what was happening on the screen. He rapped the door with his knuckles and Dean jumped.

“Dude! You scared the Hell out of me!” Dean groused.

“I wasn’t being quiet. You were in lala land,” Sam pointed out. “Where’s Cas? Did you guys work things out?” Dean shrugged casually. Too casually.

“He’s fine. We’re fine. I’ve no idea where he is. Have you tried the library?”

“I just came from there, he wasn’t in the war room either. I also checked the kitchen, the garage, your room. Everywhere. I’ve got something to tell you both.” Sam examined his brother closely and Dean flinched at the scrutiny.

“Dungeon?” he offered and Sam let out a bark of laughter.

“Must you call it that? Makes it sound like a sex dungeon,” he chortled and Dean’s face went pink. Sam laughed even harder.

“Cut it out, Sammy. You’re not funny. Seriously, have you looked in the basement?” Sam shook his head.

“All right, I’ll go check the sex dungeon. But if I find him tied up in there…”

“Sammy…” Dean growled warningly. Sam fled, laughing to himself all the way. _He probably shouldn’t be messing with his brother this way but really, Dean was too easy._

* * *

Cas was in the basement, leafing through some of the Men of Letters files. His movements were stiff and his face was expressionless, and Sam was reminded of Castiel when they first knew him, before he rebelled against Heaven.

“Hey Cas,” Sam said cautiously. The angel turned a cool look upon him. _This didn’t look so good._ “Do you have a minute? I’ve got something I want to tell you and Dean, it’d be easier not to have to do it twice.” Cas twitched almost imperceptibly at the mention of Sam’s brother but then gave a slight nod and tucked the files under his arm. Sam headed back to the TV room, the angel trailing behind him.

Dean had not moved from the couch, but he’d turned off the TV and was lounging back with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, his eyes closed. He sat up when Sam re-entered the room with Cas, and Sam could sense the tension wound tight as a bowstring in his brother’s body. Cas managed to be even stiffer than he had been in the basement, so Sam resisted the urge to make any more jokes about the “sex dungeon”.

“Right, so I just took a short unscheduled nap, and I had another dream.” Dean’s eyebrows climbed skyward, Cas remained unmoved. “All the dreams I had before were essentially the same - the hallway, the room with the ring of holy fire, and so on. I picked up a few clues when I began to experience the dreams in a lucid way, but the dream itself didn’t change very much. This time it was really different. More like a memory. Metatron was there...and Gadreel. In my body.” Sam shifted awkwardly, not enjoying this part. Dean opened his mouth but Sam lifted a hand. “Let me get this out first.” He described the dream in as much detail as he could remember, although he left out the discussion of whether he was in love with Gabriel. _It wasn’t relevant_ , he told himself.

“So Gabriel was the one to place the Grace anchor.” Dean said when he’d finished. “Hallelujah, a mystery solved. Of course we still don’t know why, or what he hoped to get from you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn manipulative angel bullshit, no doubt.” Cas went completely rigid. Dean glanced up at the angel and Sam watched astonished as his brother’s gaze softened, turning almost wistful. Weirded out by the whiplash fast changes in Dean’s attitude towards Cas and Cas’ manner in general, Sam cast about for something to break the sudden tension.

“Well, I’m glad it was Gabriel who placed the anchor,” he heard himself say. Dean’s head swiveled towards him so quickly his spine made a clicking sound. Cas’ attention was also riveted on him, his eyes wide and alarmed. “Well, since Door Number Two was freaking Lucifer, of course I’d rather it was Gabriel! I can at least trust him not to hurt me.”

Cas’ mouth actually dropped open but it was Dean who said, “You _trust_ him. _You_ trust _him_. Son of a bitch. He hurt you a whole lot as _I_ recall.” Sam shifted uncomfortably.

“I think he meant well. Kinda. In his own way,” he said lamely. “It’s not as black and white as you’re making it out to be.”

“God save us from you and your moral shades of gray, Sam.” Dean exploded. Sam waited for Cas to intervene, with soothing words that would smooth Dean’s feathers but the angel remained silent. Remarkably, Dean seemed to get a handle on his anger and after a few deep breaths, he addressed Sam again. “So, what have we actually learned?”

“OK, other than learning that Gabriel was the one responsible for the Grace anchor inside me,” Sam winced as storm clouds began to gather over Dean’s face again. “One, we now are sure that Metatron’s project was aimed at resurrecting Gabriel. At a guess, Gadreel found the anchor and was able to identify its origin when he was possessing me.” Sam fought down a wave of nausea at the mention of Gadreel’s possession. “Two, we know why Metatron wanted to resurrect Gabriel. He wanted, maybe needed an archangel on his side. Probably thought it would persuade more angels to his way of thinking. But Michael is out of reach, and Lucifer is out of the question for obvious reasons. Raphael and Gabriel were both dead, but Metatron probably would have been happy with either of them. Presented with a chance to bring Gabriel back, he took it.”

Sam paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Dean’s attention was on Cas once more, his eyes warm and his expression almost tender. _What in God’s name was going on between them now?_ Distracted, he’d lost his chain of thought. He shifted and added “So I called Martin Delaval.”

Dean blinked in surprise.

“Martin? Why?” Sam flicked a glance at Cas, unsure what Dean had told the angel. A look flickered in Dean’s eyes. _Nothing_.

“He’s a good hunter, been around a long time. Why not?” Sam replied cautiously. Dean shrugged easily.

“OK, what did he say?”

“I didn’t tell him everything, not Gabriel’s identity or that I’m the one with his anchor. He said that if the anchor was with another angel, that angel could feed Grace to Gabriel through it.”

“That’s true,” Cas confirmed. “But it doesn’t help us because you’re human. Sort of.” Sam flinched.

“Well, he seemed to think that if I stayed close to him, he’d be more likely to wake up. That’s all.”

Sam looked at Cas. “What do you think?”

“It’s possible that being as close as possible to the anchor might make Gabriel awaken. It is worth trying. Waking Gabriel has to be our priority right now.” Cas said in a monotone. “He will have answers for us. He is sure to know more about the Darkness as well.” He turned and left the room robotically. Sam fixed his eyes on Dean and waited.

“What!” Dean scowled.

“I talked to Cas, earlier. He was pretty afraid that he had upset you. And given that you almost drank yourself into a coma, it seems he was right.” Dean shuffled in his seat and wouldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. “Is it really so unthinkable, Dean?” he asked gently. His brother’s face burned and his mouth worked but no sound came out. “Look, I’ve watched you both for years now. The long stares, the standing too close, the way you forgive him for things you would never forgive anyone else for. Does the fact his vessel is male really make that much of a difference?” Dean’s head came up at that.

“You think that’s what this is about?” his voice was harsh. Sam tilted his head.

“Isn’t it? Isn’t that the barrier that’s kept you apart all these years? Tell me you wouldn’t have slept together by now if Cas’ vessel had been female.” Dean’s mouth compressed into a hard line.

“OK, you’re right. If Cas had taken a female vessel, we probably would have uh, slept together long ago. So, yeah. And I’m glad.” Sam stared at Dean in amazement, he’d expected neither the frank admission that Cas’ vessel’s gender had been a barrier nor Dean’s declaration of happiness that the barrier existed.

“Why are you glad? Maybe Cas wouldn’t have gone so off the rails if he’d had you to ground him.” Sam accused. Dean shook his head.

“I don’t think so. I think it would have been worse. I think I’d have lost him for good. And maybe myself as well, who knows. But that’s not why I’m glad. I’m glad because I don’t want another angelic notch on my bedpost, Sammy. Had Cas been female, that’s probably as much as he ever would have been. I’m not totally straight, never have been. But it takes a lot more for me to get close to a guy, too much macho bullshit from Dad for one thing I guess. You remember that siren we ran across, years ago? You never wondered why it chose a male form to seduce me? All those poor saps being taken in by hot strippers and I get an good-looking but definitely male FBI agent, who likes cars and classic rock? The siren knew what my weaknesses were and tapped into every single one of them.” Dean stopped and Sam thought all this sudden sharing might have ruptured something. “If there’s a chance of something more between me and Cas, it can’t be just because I fell into bed with another pretty face. It has to be real. And right now, I just don’t know if it’s what I want.”   
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Sam demanded, only half-joking.

“Funny, Sam. Real funny.” Dean sucked the last of the beer from the bottle and pulled a face. “Ugh. Warm beer.” And with that, he got up and ambled off towards the kitchen.

Sam sat on the couch, his brain whirling. The world had just turned completely on its head and he no longer knew what to make of it all.

 


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel develops a fever and Sam learns some disturbing things

When Dean entered the kitchen, he found Cas in there hunched over the sink. Concerned, he hurried to the angel’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas?” The angel flinched away from him with a cry and lurched backwards. Dean stilled. “Hey, Cas. Chill out, man.” The angel held himself rigid and smoothed his features into a neutral expression.

“Do you need something, Dean?” he asked, dully.

“Just a beer,” Dean said easily. “But I’d like it if Cas could come out to play, too.” The angel quivered, but Robo-Cas was still in control.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cas said mechanically. Dean ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t do this to me, Cas. Please. You’re killing me.” That had more of an effect. Cas’ lips parted for a second and he huffed out a breath. Dean raised one trembling hand to Cas’ jaw, watched the angel’s eyes go wide and felt the thrum of his Grace under his skin. Stroking his thumb along Cas’ jawline, his mouth went dry at the tremor that wracked the angel’s frame. He stared at Cas’ mouth, taking his time to really look at the soft, pink mouth and stubble-dusted chin. Cas’ tongue slid out to wet his lips and Dean sucked in a breath. He dragged his eyes up to meet Cas’ gaze, the angel’s blue eyes had darkened and were shimmering with unshed tears. Dean gave the angel a soft smile.

“It’s OK, Cas. We’re OK.” Cas blinked and that was enough to cause two tears to run down his face. Dean wiped them away with the back of his hand, then resettled his fingers on Cas’ jaw. They stood there like that, just staring at each other in a suspended moment. _This... this was the moment to move forward._ Dean stepped back.

* * *

Sam opened the door to his room to find the archangel all tangled up in the sheets, a light sheen of sweat on his skin. Sam swore under his breath and touched Gabriel’s forehead with the back of his hand. Gabriel shifted restlessly at his touch, his skin burning. Sam swore again, he’d have to go get Cas. He sighed and squared his shoulders, not wanting to deal with the angel in his current mood but there was no help for it.

He found Cas in his room, the TV on but the volume muted. He sat up straight as Sam burst into the room and blurted out. “It’s Gabriel. He’s got a fever.”

“He can’t get a fever,” Cas contradicted. “He’s an archangel.” Sam shook his head frantically.

“He’s hot and sweating and tangled up in the sheets. Looks like a fever to me.”

“Show me.” Cas said, standing.

Running down the hallway back to Sam’s room, they encountered Dean who fell in step behind them at Sam’s breathless explanation. Once at Gabriel’s side, Cas touched his fingers to the archangel’s forehead and concentrated. Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Finally the angel looked up, his brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand. None of this should be happening, even with his Grace so badly depleted. I don’t know what to do.” Cas sounded a little panicked and Sam’s stomach lurched.

“OK. Cas and I’ll call Martin again. Sam, until we learn differently, let’s treat this like a human fever. Stay here and keep watch over Gabriel, maybe try and get his temperature down.” Dean decided. The angel gave a nod and they left hurriedly. Sam stared at Gabriel, who was tossing and turning in the bed, his lips silently moving. There was a fan on the dresser that he switched on and pointed towards the bed. That was a start, but it wouldn’t be enough. Remembering how Dean had cared for him as a kid when he had the flu, he dashed to the bathroom to grab a towel and soaked it in cold water. Back in his room, he began wrestling Gabriel out of his borrowed clothes. At least the awful bruises that had previously marred that pale golden skin had mostly faded away. Sam swallowed, _this was no time to get distracted,_ and focused on the task at hand, wiping the cool wet towel over Gabriel’s skin, until Gabriel’s restless movements slowed. Cold water dripped on his jeans and he cursed. He pulled away for a moment and removed his boots and then with a twist of his mouth, flopped onto the bed next to Gabriel. He kept the wet towel moving over the archangel’s skin, and watched closely for any changes.

Slowly, Gabriel’s ragged breathing evened out and he settled against Sam’s side. Sam tucked his arm under the archangel’s head, wondering if his own body heat would make things worse again. But Gabriel continued to improve. The archangel was plastered against Sam’s body and Sam relaxed as he felt the febrile skin cooling, clearly the worst of the fever had receded as quickly and mysteriously as it had arrived.

Gabriel’s hand slid under Sam’s t-shirt and across Sam’s stomach, and despite his worry and stress, he couldn’t prevent a moan from slipping out. He chastised himself for behaving so inappropriately-- Gabriel was sick! The hand continued to move and Sam leaned his head back trying desperately not to react to the slide of Gabriel’s skin against his own. Finally, the hand came to rest over the Grace anchor mark on Sam’s chest and it was as if he’d been plugged into an outlet. His entire nervous system was burning, screaming, pain tearing along every nerve ending like white hot needles. And just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Sam opened his eyes carefully, to see Gabriel propped up on his chest, his eyes wide.

“Sammy…” he said, awestruck.

* * *

The noise Sam had made had been so terrific, it had actually set off one of the bunker’s alarms. Cas had silenced it with an irritated motion as he sprinted out of the library, Dean tearing helter-skelter behind him. The bizarre scene that greeted them brought them both up short. Gabriel was clad only in boxer shorts and lying on top of Sam with his hands under his shirt. They were staring at each other with shocked looks on both their faces.

“Gabriel!” Cas shouted. Sam and Gabriel turned to see their brothers tumble into the room. Gabriel rolled off Sam, huffed out a breath and closed his eyes.

“What the Hell is going on in here?” Dean demanded. Sam closed his eyes briefly.

“You said I should treat Gabriel like a human with a fever,” he explained. “When I had flu, you used to cool my skin with a wet towel. So, that’s what I was doing, and it seemed to be working.” Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“And this required you to take off all his clothes and get into bed with him?” he snarled.

“I could hardly do it with him all bundled up in sweats. I climbed on the bed because it was easier to work on cooling him down. What’s the matter with you?” Dean bared his teeth but didn’t articulate an answer. “Anyway, Gabriel started settling and I guess he reached out and touched his hand to the Grace anchor mark. That hurt like a son of a bitch, which is why I was yelling. When it stopped and I opened my eyes, he was awake.” Sam looked at Gabriel, who was lying so serenely next to him, he began to wonder if he’d imagined it.

“That’s strange. You felt pain when Gabriel touched the mark?” Cas asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Terrible, burning hot pain, like all my nerve endings were on fire. Just for a moment. Then it stopped. And when I opened my eyes, Gabriel was awake.” He looked down at the archangel. “Has he gone back into the coma?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas replied. “I think he’s faking.” There was a soft snort from Gabriel and his eyes flickered open.

“Tell them to go away, Sammy.” he muttered. “I need to rest.”

Sam looked up at his brother and Cas. “You heard him.”

“We’ll make up another room for him, so you can have your room back.” Cas offered. Sam shook his head.

“No, I want him here where I can be on hand in case the fever returns.” Dean looked dubious, but Cas shepherded him out of the room.

Sam looked down at Gabriel, who was looking at him with half-lidded, sleepy eyes. The archangel gave a lopsided smile.

“It’s good to see you, Sammy.” He turned onto his side and steadily looked up and down Sam’s body with interest. “It’s really good to see you,” he added, raising one eyebrow. Sam flushed.

“I should probably get off the bed.” he mumbled, but didn’t move.

“Bah! Ignore my prudish brother. And yours. I’m too exhausted to debauch you anyway.” He gave Sam a more suggestive look up and down and Sam’s color deepened. “Maybe later…” He licked his lips and Sam almost leaped off the bed.

“Stop. Or I’ll go sleep somewhere else and if you get sick again you’ll be on your own.” He turned his back on the archangel.

“Relax.” Gabriel drawled. “I’m messing with you, that’s all. Your virtue is safe. Come back to bed.” Unsure why he was doing this, Sam lay back down and allowed Gabriel to poke and prod him until they were arranged to the archangel’s liking. Gabriel was curled against his side again, his head on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, his tone somber.

“Did you know that was going to happen?” Sam asked.

“No. I swear. I mean, yes I knew what it would do to me, I didn’t know it would cause you pain.” Gabriel trailed his fingers across Sam’s stomach, making the muscles tense and twitch in a way that was much too pleasant.

“Please stop doing that.” Sam told him. Gabriel withdrew his hand. “What do you mean, what it did to you?” Gabriel sighed.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” he asked plaintively. Sam nodded. “OK, you obviously know about the Grace anchor I placed on you.”

“Why did you do that, by the way?”

“Later. It’s a long story and I really do need to rest. When I touched the Grace anchor, I was able to use it to replenish some of my Grace through your soul.” Sam sat up suddenly and Gabriel tumbled awkwardly out of bed. “Hey!”

“You...sucked on my soul!” Sam demanded, horror clawing at his throat.

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” Gabriel said from the floor. “Not to mention inaccurate. Help me up.” Sam stared down at him and he sighed. “Your soul’s intact. I used it as a conduit, that’s all. Human souls are connected to Heaven at birth. When you sin, really sin, it begins to sever that connection, and normally it has to completely detach before a soul can go to Hell. I’ve been cut off from Heaven for a long time, but I’m an archangel, so I have other ways to recharge my Grace. But my options here are limited, and you were lying right there next to me. I figured you wouldn’t mind. Of course, I didn’t know it would hurt you. As soon as I realized, I stopped.” Sam held out a hand and Gabriel struggled upright. He flounced back onto the bed and wrapped himself around Sam once more. Sam lay stiffly for a moment, but couldn’t hold onto his anger with Gabriel plastered against his side and his fingers trailing across his stomach again. He tried futilely to repress the curl of desire that Gabriel was gently coaxing from his body.

“Please, Gabriel. Please. Don’t do this,” he begged. Gabriel’s fingers stilled.

“I’ll try,” he said doubtfully. Sam looked down at the top of the archangel’s head.

“This is going too fast for me,” Sam told him. “Until a few days ago, I thought you were dead. And before that, I hardly knew you. We weren’t friends. Allies at best, at the end.”

“Did you miss me, Sammy?” Gabriel asked quietly.

“Yes, I did. Grieved, even.” His voice was clipped. No longer able to resist the urge, he tangled his fingers in Gabriel’s hair. “How Dean didn’t notice is beyond me. I guess he had his own concerns.” Gabriel was silent. “What did you do to me, Gabriel?”

“What did _I_ do to _you_?” the archangel marveled. “What did _you_ do to _me?_ I was having a perfectly nice life until this giant human came stumbling into the middle of it and somehow... I fell in love. Then I’m dead.”

“ _In love?_ ” Sam choked, appalled.

“What, you think I go around killing everybody’s siblings a hundred times to try and teach them how to accept loss? Well, there was the whole triggering the Apocalypse thing I was trying to avoid as well. But really...” Gabriel’s fingers were moving again. Sam tried to remember how to breathe as the archangel hand drifted south.

“Gabriel!” The hand stopped.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t know what kind of trick you’re pulling, Gabriel. Right now it’s getting har...uh, difficult to care. Which you know damn well. But give me a break. You love yourself, nobody else, and everything you do is for a selfish reason.” That got a reaction. Gabriel’s hand retreated and he wiggled out from under Sam’s arm, rolling over to present his back to him. _Shit._

“Gabriel?” The archangel didn’t respond. “Gabriel, I’m sorry. I am. But you must understand how difficult this is to believe. And you surely didn’t think I felt the same way about you. We barely knew each other!” The muscles in Gabriel’s back stiffened further. _Dammit. He didn’t understand what was going on here and he was making it worse._ He sat up and climbed off the bed, but Gabriel remained unmoved.

“Maybe I should let you sleep. I’m tired, and I’m not expressing myself very well. We can talk in the morning.” He leaned over to pick up his jeans when he heard Gabriel whisper.

“Stay.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re not even close to being on the same wavelength.”

“Please.” Gabriel’s shoulders shuddered and Sam relented.

“Fine. But stop trying to seduce me, or whatever the Hell it is you think you’re doing. We can talk, or we can sleep. That’s it.” He climbed back into the bed and stretched out his arm again. Gabriel made a happy noise and cuddled back into Sam’s side once more. But this time he behaved himself.

* * *

When Sam awoke, it was to find that Gabriel had turned over in the night and Sam was now spooned up behind him. Sam lay there silently, enjoying the lazy sense of arousal that came with waking up pressed against another warm body.

“Somebody woke up happy.” Gabriel observed huskily. Sam jerked in guilt and surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Oh, so you only want to molest me in my sleep.” Gabriel managed to spin himself around in Sam’s arms and all of a sudden his face was very, very close. Sam’s breathing stuttered.

“Good morning, Sammy.” Gabriel said with a sultry smile. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Sam’s. The effect was electric, Sam went from half-asleep to fully awake and highly aroused almost immediately. His brain disengaged and his instincts took over as he clutched the archangel to him and savagely brought their mouths together. Gabriel’s mouth yielded instantly to Sam’s onslaught, hard and hot and open to Sam’s tongue. Sam thrust one hand into Gabriel’s hair and tugged his head back, before biting a trail down Gabriel’s neck and then sinking his teeth into his shoulder. Gabriel groaned and it was the hottest thing Sam had ever heard.

Gabriel’s blood tasted incredible - like lightning and chaos and starlight and seemed strangely familiar but even that vague thought did not pierce the haze of lust that had overtaken him. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shorts before continuing to lick and kiss and bite his way down the archangel’s chest and stomach. Gabriel’s breath was coming in short little pants and Sam felt heady with the power he felt making this incredible creature come apart in his arms. He went to dip lower still, but Gabriel’s hands tugged him back up to his mouth.

“My turn,” he breathed against Sam’s jaw, then set to work nibbling and sucking at his neck and throat. Gabriel’s teeth were sharp, and Sam was sure he’d drawn blood in several places but he did not care. He just wanted to go on feeling like this forever. Gabriel had moved lower and was swirling his tongue in Sam’s belly button in a way that should not have been as erotic as it was. But when Sam thought he might continue southwards, he instead hauled himself up Sam’s body until he was straddling him and returned his attentions to Sam’s neck.. He ground his hips against Sam and slid one hand between them, wringing a gasp from them both. Sam pulled Gabriel in for another kiss, and they moved against each other, faster and harder, until Gabriel suddenly threw his head back with a shout. Sam felt the beginning of the archangel’s climax before he too was tumbling over the edge with a cry.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel deal with the aftermath of the morning's activities

Sam lay quietly on the bed staring at the ceiling, Gabriel tucked under one arm. He couldn't believe how monumentally stupid he had been or explain why he'd surrendered so quickly to Gabriel's advances. He felt cold inside, and cheap. Which was idiotic, Sam was no stranger to casual sex. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he really,  _really_ should not have had sex with Gabriel. He shifted slightly and established that Gabriel was sound asleep once more before slipping his arm out from under the archangel's head and getting out of bed. He looked down at his stomach with a wrinkle of his nose. Sam felt dirty, and not just from the evidence of the morning's activities. He gathered up some clothes and headed off to take a shower.

At breakfast, he kept his eyes firmly on his coffee, or the single slice of toast he'd only managed to take two bites of. Dean and Cas were moving around each other cautiously in a way that was kind of sweet. Dean exchanged a wordless glance with Cas.

"You seem...unhappy this morning," Cas said carefully to Sam. Dean studied his brother closely, he thought he knew all of Sam's moods but this was a new one.

"I...did something I shouldn't have." Sam mumbled. Understanding bloomed on Cas' face. Dean thought it looked rather charming. He cleared his throat.

"You had sex with Gabriel." Cas stated baldly. Dean gagged on his coffee. "He is very difficult to resist." Cas added, ruefully. Dean shot a startled look at the angel, who gazed back innocently. "This is not the first time you've had sex with someone in a casual fashion." Cas continued. Sam wanted to die.

"No." he answered, although it hadn't really been a question.

"So, why are you so angry with yourself for doing it this time?" Cas prodded. Dean squirmed, to be honest, he wasn't real happy with Sam's choice of bed partner either. He scratched at his stubble to hide his discomfort and watched Sam struggle for words.

"I can't explain it. Only a feeling that I screwed up big time. It's kind of like the feeling you get if you cheat on someone." Dean gaped at him, Cas looked troubled.

"I don't understand. There's nobody for you to cheat  _on_." Cas furrowed his brow. "Is there?" Sam shook his head.

"Exactly. There's no reason for me to feel this way, I didn't feel like this with the waitress in Oregon for example." Cas' eyebrows rose at Dean's quick remembering grin. "Something's wrong. Really wrong. I think I'm gonna throw up." Sam stumbled off the chair and lurched off to the bathroom. Cas gazed steadily at Dean.

"I'd better talk to Gabriel."

* * *

Castiel tapped lightly at the door before letting himself in. Gabriel eyes opened as soon as he entered the room, and pouted when he saw who it was.

"I'm sorry if you were hoping I was Sam." Castiel told him. "But we have a major problem." Gabriel sat up.

"Is Sam OK?" Castiel shook his head and Gabriel frowned.

"What did you do, Gabriel?" At the archangel's innocent look, Castiel began to glower. "Sam Winchester is very dear to me, Gabriel. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm not a mind reader," Gabriel said reasonably. "Tell me what's up with Sam and I'll tell you what I know." Castiel bared his teeth, but Gabriel just rolled his eyes. "No tricks, I swear. I would not see any harm come to Sam. I promise." He twinkled at Castiel and drew a cross over his heart. Castiel related Sam's breakfast conversation to him, and was startled to see Gabriel's expression go from playful to deadly serious.

"Where is he?" Gabriel demanded. Castiel shrank back. Even with his Grace at low levels, Gabriel was not someone to be messed with.

"He said he wanted to vomit. He went to the bathroom near the library." Gabriel jumped out of the bed and swayed for a moment. Castiel started to move towards him but he held out a hand to stop him.

"I'm fine, little bro. Just give me a second." He pulled on the sweatpants discarded on the floor and set off in search of Sam.

* * *

Gabriel knocked smartly on the bathroom door. "Go away, Dean." Sam said, his voice unsteady.

"It's Gabriel." There was silence for a moment.

"Go away, Gabriel."

"Let me in, Sam. It's important."

"Leave me alone. Please." Gabriel raked a hand through his hair.

"I can't." He looked at Castiel, who gestured and he heard the lock click. Turning the knob, he poked his head around the door to see Sam hunched over the toilet, his face pale and sweating. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, ignoring Dean's squawk of protest. Gabriel kneeled next to Sam and tried to rub a comforting hand against his back, but Sam shied away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." Sam said dully. Gabriel examined him closely.

"Talk to me, Sam."

"I made a mistake." He looked miserable. "We shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" Gabriel asked gently. "I wanted it, you wanted it. Neither of us has any other ties." He rubbed his neck ruefully. "Maybe we moved faster than you're comfortable with, and for that I apologize. I'm old and greedy and I'm not used to delaying gratification."

"I feel like I've done something terrible." Sam admitted. Gabriel looked puzzled. "Like I said to Cas and Dean this morning, it's like the feeling you get when you cheat on someone." Gabriel still looked confused. "Like when you betray someone you care about," he tried. Gabriel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He reached out to Sam and placed a hand on his head and concentrated. Understanding had Gabriel sitting back on his heels, thunderstruck.

"Dammit, Luci. You son of a bitch," he snarled. Sam's head came up in alarm. "I know what's wrong with you, Sam. And I am so, so sorry. How did this happen?" Gabriel shook his head sorrowfully.

"Tell me what's going on, Gabriel. And tell me you can fix it." Gabriel looked awful, Sam thought. Worse even than when he'd first found him in that warehouse.

"Lucifer did something to you, Sam. I'm not sure if I can fix it or not. But you need to tell me what happened with the Apocalypse. You obviously managed to shove him back in the Cage." Sam smiled weakly.

"How do you know we didn't kill him?" Gabriel leveled a look at him and began counting off his fingers.

"One, I would know if he was dead. I would be able to feel it. I know that Raphael is dead, for example. Two, no offence Sam, but I was your best shot at killing Luci, and I failed. Horribly." Gabriel's voice was cheerful but it rang false. "And three, if he  _were_ dead, you would not feel like this."

"I said yes to Lucifer. When we met with Michael, who was possessing our half-brother Adam, we opened the Cage and I fought Lucifer for control of my body. I was able to do it, just for a moment, but it was enough. I threw myself in and when Michael tried to stop me, I pulled him in too." Gabriel stared at Sam, horror carving deep lines into his face.

"That was not exactly what I had in mind, Sam! You were supposed to shove that poor bastard Nick in there."

Sam shrugged. "That wasn't going to work." Gabriel blew out a breath.

"How did you get out of the Cage?" Sam looked away.

"That's a really long story. Let's just say someone got me out, and leave it at that."

"OK, we'll leave that for now." Gabriel agreed. "While he was possessing you, Luci knitted a piece of his Grace right into your soul."

"For God's sake, why?" Sam blurted out. Gabriel looked angry.

"Why do you think, Sam?" Gabriel growled. "To seduce you."

"Seems like that's been going around," Sam said bitterly. He flinched when Gabriel got right up in his face.

"You didn't do anything you didn't want to do, Sam. I'm not that much of a bastard, thank you very much," Gabriel snarled. Sam subsided.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"For Lucifer, your consent to his possession would not have been enough. He needed to claim you and make you belong to him completely." Sam's stomach turned over.

How is this different from your Grace anchor?" Gabriel looked self-conscious, it was an unusual look for him.

"Grace anchors don't affect the emotions of the person holding the anchor. They can't be used to manipulate them. What Lucifer did is different. He tore a hole in your soul, and patched it with a piece of his Grace. Your soul's a strange, patchwork looking thing anyway," Gabriel gave him a curious glance as he said that, but continued, "so it is impossible to see unless you're looking for it. Now I know it's there…"

"So rip it out already." Sam grated. Gabriel shook his head.

"I don't know that I can, Sam. I could tear your soul to pieces doing that, completely destroy it. You don't want to be left soulless, believe me." Gabriel was shocked by the look of resignation on Sam's face.

"Huh. Soulless again..." Gabriel's jaw dropped.

"Again? What have you been up to while I've been dead?"

* * *

Dean paced in front of the bathroom door, able to hear the low murmur of voices inside but not clearly enough to hear what was being said. When Cas gasped and looked stricken, he grabbed the angel by the arm.

"What is it, Cas?"

"Lucifer. Gabriel says Lucifer knitted a piece of his Grace into Sam's soul. And it's still there. That's why Sam feels like he betrayed someone when he had sex with Gabriel." Dean clenched his teeth.

"Stop saying that. I don't need to be reminded about...that." Cas ignored him.

"Gabriel says he can't tear it out, probably because of the way Sam's soul was patched back together after being in the Cage." The angel looked distraught. Dean squeezed his arm. "If he tried to remove Lucifer's Grace, he'd probably destroy Sam's soul altogether."


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel deal with the fallout of the morning's activities

Sam Winchester had more than had enough. He was tired, tired of being cursed, tired of being a freak, tired of angels using his body like their own personal playground, tired of struggling with it all alone. Nobody really understood, not even Dean. When they'd come up with the plan to avert the Apocalypse, sacrificing himself by throwing himself in the Cage with Lucifer along for the ride, he'd figured that if he couldn't have peace, he could at least be content in the knowledge that he literally saved the world from destruction.

Cas' catastrophic response to the whole mess, tearing him out of the Cage but leaving his soul behind, had left him soulless for more than a year. And, in that year, he had found a sort of peace. When Dean had decided to enlist Death to stuff his soul back in, Sam had resisted and with good reason. Part of him still wished his brother had left well enough alone. He rested his head back against the cold tile of the bathroom wall, his eyes closed. He could feel Gabriel's scrutiny, prickling at his skin. The nauseating feeling of betrayal had ebbed and he concentrated on breathing, slow and steady.

"So, that's the story. All of it. Don't be too hard on Cas." he told the archangel. Gabriel shook his head, awestruck at the utterly infuriating, fascinating, spellbindingly beautiful human in front of him. The depth of forgiveness in Sam would put most angels to shame. "I'm tired, Gabriel. I've held it together this long because of Dean. But, maybe he doesn't need me anymore. Cas will take care of him." Gabriel felt a stirring of alarm.

"We will figure this out, Sam. I swear."

"Maybe we will. Probably not. It's OK. I don't mind." Sam opened his eyes, to see Gabriel staring at him, horrified. "I'm sorry, Gabriel, for what it's worth."

"You're giving up?" Gabriel said, incredulous. "Just like that, Sam Winchester's throwing in the towel? Over my dead body!" Outside, Dean had started hammering on the door. Sam shook his head, his hair swinging in his face.

"You know, I met a reaper recently. Billie. She told me the next time Dean or I died, the Reaper's would toss our souls into the Void." He shrugged. "Sounds good to me. What else is there? Heaven's closed, and frankly sounds awful. Hell or Purgatory? I think I'll pass."

"You could live!" Gabriel said urgently and jerked back at the look on Sam's face as he turned to face the archangel.

"I'm not planning on dying, Gabriel. I coped with soullessness before. I can do it again." Gabriel jumped up and wrenched the bathroom door open. Dean almost tumbled into the room and Gabriel grabbed him roughly, shoving him at Sam.

"Talk some sense into your brother," he snarled and after casting a significant look at Castiel, stalked off.

* * *

Castiel followed Gabriel into the kitchen, and watched warily as his brother rooted in the cabinets for something sweet. Finding Castiel's secret stash of candy bars in a ceramic jar labeled 'flour', he slammed the door in triumph. Gabriel crammed several pieces into his mouth without speaking, before finally looking up at Castiel.

"I am so, so screwed, Cassie." Castiel tilted his head at him, his face confused. "Sam Winchester." Gabriel shook his head and waved the empty wrapper at the baffled angel. "And on top of that there's you and Dean!" Castiel flushed.

"Dean and I are…" Castiel broke off. "Never mind. What did you do to Sam, Gabriel?"

"Me! Nothing! It's dear old Luci who's at the bottom of this one." Gabriel said firmly. "As usual." he added bitterly.

"Could you not at least have resisted having sex with him the moment you woke up?" Castiel said primly.

"Bah! Just because it's taken you and Dean seven freaking years and you still haven't gotten to first base, doesn't mean we're all so repressed." Gabriel spat.

"So, how  _do_ we extract Lucifer's Grace from Sam's soul?" Castiel shot back, stung.

"We can't. The risk of destroying his soul altogether is much too high. And apparently, he's been soulless before! What the Hell, Castiel?" Gabriel slammed a hand against the counter, his temper was in full flight now and his younger brother cowered.

"I was trying to save him." Castiel said, his voice breaking.

"Well, Sam's tipped right over the edge now. He wants me to rip out Luci's Grace, even if it does leave him soulless. Even if it kills him. He doesn't care. He doesn't care enough to even live. I can't do this, Castiel. Destroying Sam Winchester will destroy me." His gaze was hard. "It will destroy Dean as well."

* * *

Dean looked at Sam, his head tilted back against the wall and his expression calm. He frowned, there was nothing too alarming going on here as far as he could see. Sam wasn't freaking out or anything to warrant Gabriel's temper tantrum.

"Sammy?" he asked tentatively. "Gabriel seemed pretty...uhh..upset." Sam opened his eyes.

"I guess you overheard the conversation?" Dean shook his head.

"Not really. I only know what Cas told me. Something about Lucifer leaving a bit of his Grace in your soul and if Gabriel rips it out, it'll destroy your soul completely."

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"OK, well. There must be another option. We'll figure something out, don't you worry." Dean forced himself to sound confident, even if inside he was desperately concerned.

"I think we should rip it out." Sam said simply.

"What? And risk destroying your soul completely?" Dean cried, unnerved by Sam's calm acceptance. Sam shrugged.

"I've been soulless before. I didn't turn into an ax murderer." His voice was even, resigned. Dean paled.

"No, you just let me get turned into a freaking  _vampire_ to help you track down the Alpha!" Sam sighed.

"And you're never, ever going to forgive me for that, are you?" He began to pull himself upright. This conversation was going nowhere.

"I forgave you, Sammy. But I didn't forget." Dean said quietly. "You do this and your soul is destroyed, I don't know if we'll be brothers any more. And I'll freaking kill Gabriel."

"If I did that to Sam, I'd let you." Gabriel's voice came from the bathroom doorway.

"It's not your soul, your life on the line here. Either of you." Sam said viciously. "Who are you to make decisions for me? Haven't we been through this before? I'm ready. I was ready before you let Gadreel take me out for a spin. It's time. I'm done." Dean stood up with a roar and slammed his hand into the mirror above the sink, which exploded into shards of glass and a spray of blood up the wall. Cas stepped into the room and touched two fingers to Dean's forehead, catching him easily as he slumped unconscious. He shot an angry glance at Sam before carrying Dean out. Gabriel surveyed the damage.

"You really think if I try and rip out Luci's Grace, and either you die or end up soulless, that Dean wouldn't be destroyed too? And me?" Gabriel asked, his tone soft.

"I can't live like this, Gabriel. Knowing there's still a piece of him inside me." Sam choked. "I can feel it now. I can feel  _him_ …" Tears ran down his face and Gabriel came and knelt beside him, cradling Sam's head in his arms. "Why is this happening now?"

"That's my fault." Gabriel admitted. "When we had sex this morning, it recognized the touch of my Grace. We're lucky I'm not fully charged up, really. I'm not sure how you would have felt if I had been at full power." Sam twitched.

"Why would that make a difference?" he asked hesitantly. Gabriel stroked one hand down Sam's arm, and looked almost shy.

"If I had been at full power, my Grace and your soul would have entwined at the moment of climax." Sam stared at Gabriel.

"Does that happen every time you have sex?" he said, his voice strangled.

"What? No! Can you imagine?" The archangel's mouth quirked. "Well, no, I guess you can't. No, Sam, because it's not about sex at that point. It's an expression of love." Another wave of nausea washed over Sam and he lurched back towards the toilet, dry heaving and gasping.

"I've had better reactions to a declaration of love, if I'm honest." Gabriel observed wryly.

"Is it always going to be like this?" Sam whispered. Gabriel grabbed the towel off the rail and soaked it under the faucet. Wiping the corner across Sam's face, he sighed.

"I'm hoping it's going to fade, as long as we don't..uh..do anything else. Until we figure this out." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Father help us all."

* * *

Cas laid Dean on the couch in the TV room. He picked a few slivers of glass from Dean's hand before healing the damage, then stroked his fingers down his jaw with a whisper of Grace to rouse him. Dean's eyes blinked open and he looked around in confusion. After a moment, memory returned and his glare rested on Cas, his eyes snapping with anger.

"I can't believe you just did that, Cas." he growled. The angel was unabashed.

"Smashing up the place was not helping matters." he told the angry hunter. Dean blinked in surprise -  _Cas was talking back to him?_  "Gabriel will sort things out. You have to trust him, Dean." The angel's face was resolute.

"Trust him? You're out of your feathery mind." But there was no heat in his words anymore and he pulled Cas in for a hug. He tucked his nose into Cas' neck, breathing in the unique scent of his angel - a combination of ozone and the smell of wet grass after the rain. The scent that he had associated with home for longer than he liked to recall. Because wherever he was, if Cas was there, he was home and he was safe.

* * *

_Sammy…_

Sam jerked, he hadn't remembered planning to go to sleep, but here he was in his dream again. The same stinking hallway, but this time he could hear sounds - scraping and chanting.

He peered around the door at the end of the hall, and rubbed his eyes at the scene before him. He was lying naked in a chalk circle. Enochian symbols were painted around him in blood and unlit red candles stood inside each symbol. Metatron was chanting rhythmically and pacing back and forth with another red candle, which was burning with a white flame. At specified points, Metatron bent to touch each candle with the one in his hand. When all the candles were lit, Metatron intoned a final incantation and then fell silent. The candle flames flared up, six, seven feet in the air and then snuffed out as a wind blew up from nowhere. It whipped Sam's hair around, whirling around the circle and kicking up dust until he could barely see anything. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the wind dropped and Sam couldn't restrain his gasp. The circle, the symbols and the candles had vanished and Gabriel had appeared, just as naked, lying next to him. His eyes were closed and his face was placid. Metatron clapped in delight.

"Gadreel! It worked!" Sam saw his eyes open and his body sit up robotically. Gadreel-Sam turned and looked down at the prone form of Gabriel. He poked at the archangel, but there was no response.

"Come on, come on. Let's get the holy oil lit before he wakes up." Metatron ordered, dancing from foot to foot in apparent glee. Gadreel-Sam stood and retrieved his clothes, before lighting Sam's Zippo lighter and tossing it idly to the floor. The holy oil they had clearly poured out on the floor before beginning the ritual started to burn.

"Excellent work, Gadreel. Excellent work." Metatron exclaimed. Sam thought he sounded like a movie villain.

"What about this piece of Lucifer's Grace in Sam's soul?" Gadreel-Sam asked. Sam bit his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"What about it?" Metatron asked irritably. "Lucifer's in the Cage. There's not much he can do other than whisper in Sam Winchester's mind, and that's only if the Grace is awakened. Which it apparently has not done when exposed to your Grace."

"But what if exposure to Gabriel's Grace…" Gadreel-Sam began. Metatron turned on him, suspicious.

"How would that happen, Gadreel? Unless you're planning to sleep with Gabriel, there's really no need to worry about it. Or is Sam Winchester not the only one with inappropriate feelings about our pet archangel?" Gadreel-Sam shifted awkwardly and Sam felt cold inside. Metatron had a point, why  _was_ Gadreel concerned about this? After all, Sam had lived for several years without any clue that he was carrying a piece of Lucifer in his soul.

"It was a consideration." Gadreel-Sam replied stiffly. Sam shook his head in denial .  _No, oh no, he did not want to hear this._ "Gabriel is powerful and will be a crucial ally. But from Sam's memories I can see how living so long on earth has left him capricious, self-centered and decadent. He wallows in dissipation and sin. And he really, really likes Sam Winchester. I thought we might need a way to control him, and doing so through his vices is the most efficient way of achieving that." Metatron shuddered at Gadreel-Sam's words.

"You are revolting. But you have a point. Very well, if it pleases you, I am not going to stop you. Once he awakens, a friendly face should help bring him around to our point of view. Assuming you can convince him that you are Sam, of course. If he knows the kid as well as you insinuate, that could be tricky."

Sam expected to wake at that point, in fact he really, really wanted to wake up now. But instead the dreamscape shifted and he found himself lounging by the side of a sparkling swimming pool. He looked around. He seemed to be at some kind of villa, all white stucco walls and orange terracotta tile. There was nobody else around. The sun was warm on his skin and He looked down in surprise to see he was wearing a pair of bermuda shorts. A hand touched his shoulder and he turned in surprise to look into the insouciant blue eyes that technically belonged to some poor fool called Nick, but that Sam always associated with Lucifer.

"You!" he gasped.

"Hello, Sam." Lucifer said, with a smile. He walked slowly around Sam, taking his time to gaze up and down his body.

"What do you want?" Lucifer's face saddened.

"I came to see you, Sam. It's been a long time." He reached out and brushed a few strands of Sam's hair aside. Sam jerked back.

"Get your filthy hands off me." he spat.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy." Lucifer said, shaking his head. "You've been a  _very_ naughty boy." Sam gaped at him. "Gabriel, Sam? You let  _Gabriel_ touch you, pleasure you,  _make love to you._  How could you, Sam?" Sam shifted uncomfortably under Lucifer's penetrating gaze.

"Why do you care?" he ground out. "We're not...we never...we were never like that." He swallowed, his throat dry.

"We could have been," Lucifer shrugged. "You knew I wanted it. How many times did I offer to give you anything and everything you wanted? Including love, and passion, and desire?" His forked tongue flickered out over his lips and Sam squirmed.  _This isn't real_ , he thought.  _It can't be. It's just a nightmare._ "Oh it's a dream, true. I'm still trapped in the Cage. With Michael." A flash of viciousness contorted his features for a moment, before returning to a look of loving forgiveness. "But it's real too. When you...soiled yourself with my brother...the piece of my Grace I lodged in your soul reawakened." Lucifer slid his hands across Sam's chest and then thrust one up into Sam's hair. Sam wanted to be sick.

"But I forgive you, my love," Lucifer crooned, stroking circles across his skin. "Unless you do it again of course." He suddenly gripped Sam's nipple between two fingers and twisted it, hard. Sam gasped in pain and shock. Lucifer pulled Sam into his body, and tugged his head down for a savage, biting kiss that Sam could only struggle weakly against. He did not want this, and yet heat began to pool low in his abdomen as Lucifer abandoned his mouth to drag a wet trail down the side of his neck. He hummed against Sam's skin and Sam shivered.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel deal with further fallout from the discovery of Lucifer's Grace and Dean and Cas make a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As may have been clear from the last chapter, going forward, there may be some scenes and discussions that could be a little uncomfortable for some readers. Nothing explicit, but there are some abusive themes and some serious implications around consent. Please consider if such things might be triggering for you.

Dean eyed his brother uneasily. Sam and Gabriel had come into the TV room to unwind a little but his brother had been sat staring into space for a really long time, Gabriel curled up asleep next to him. Cas had taken himself off somewhere,  _to do some research_  he'd claimed although the look on his face had been strange. Sam suddenly jerked violently. His breathing started to come more rapidly and Dean felt a flicker of fear. He waved a hand in front of Sam's face, shook him by the shoulder, even slapped him across the face, all to no avail. Sam's eyes were open, but apparently he was somewhere else. His mouth opened and his breath was coming in short pants, then he suddenly threw his head back and moaned. Dean stepped back in alarm.

"Gabriel!" He poked the sleeping archangel in the shoulder, then yelled. " _Cas!"_

Sam squirmed in his seat, his hands gripping the cushions tightly. "Oh God," he breathed. "Stop… please... You have to stop." Cas appeared in the doorway as Gabriel shook himself awake, took one look at Sam and tugged on his arm. Sam continued to writhe and gasp.

"We have to wake him." Gabriel said. "We must, before this comes to a climax. Literally." Dean's eyes widened. Gabriel turned to Castiel.

"Can you do something? I'm still out of juice and I think it's the only way we can snap him out of this." Castiel nodded and came to stand in front Sam. He laid a hand on Sam's forehead and sent a spike of his Grace sharply into Sam. Sam's body went totally slack, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Gabriel let out an explosive breath.

"What the Hell was that?" Dean demanded.

"At a guess, it's our old friend Lucifer." Gabriel said tautly. "Now we've woken up the piece of Grace in Sam's soul, Luci's using it to talk to Sam."

"Didn't look like talking to me." Dean muttered. Sam groaned and raised up his head to see three concerned pairs of eyes watching him.

"Uhh. Hi," he said, mortified. His face flamed.

"How are you feeling, Sammy?" Gabriel asked softly. Sam gulped and his residual arousal from his vision began to stir again in response to Gabriel's closeness.

"Uh," he said intelligently. "What happened?"

"You went off into a kind of trance." Dean told him, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh. Yeah. I had the dream again. Or vision, I guess, since I wasn't asleep. I saw the ritual that resurrected Gabriel. Seems Metatron and Gadreel know about this piece of Lucifer's Grace in my soul too. Then the dream shifted to some kind of vacation villa," Sam swallowed. "With a swimming pool," he added unnecessarily. "Lucifer was there, and he uh... He was angry with me." His face burned. "About you," he said to Gabriel. "He...uhh…" Unable to continue, Sam buried his face in his hands. Gabriel looked at his brother and Dean.

"I think we got the picture." Gabriel produced another candy bar he'd swiped from Castiel's secret stash and unwrapped it. He tilted Sam's head up gently and offered a piece of chocolate to his lips. Sam opened his mouth and let Gabriel feed him. The chocolate was sweet and slightly warm, and he actually started to feel a little better. Gabriel leaned in, and gave him a chaste kiss. When Sam didn't recoil from him, he gave a small smile.

"I guess I'm going to have to learn a little restraint." He ignored the twin snorts behind him. He looked up at Dean, his face troubled. "If Luci's whispering sweet nothings in Sam's ear, we have to stop him."

"Maybe if you stop pawing at my brother, Lucifer won't have a reason to do anything to him." Dean sneered. Gabriel glared at him scathingly.

"You really think Luci will back off, now he's got a new way to torment Sam? He adores him, and he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants." Gabriel snapped. Dean looked like he wanted to punch someone.

"And what does he want? Other than Sam, I mean. Obviously he wants out of the Cage, but that can't happen can it? That ship already sailed." Cas rubbed a reassuring hand across Dean's back.

"You and Sam still have the key to Lucifer's Cage, Dean," he reminded the hunter. Dean stiffened.

"You're saying he'll seduce Sam into opening the Cage door? My brother's not that stupid, Cas." Sam looked down at the floor, humiliated. Dean was wrong. A few weeks of Lucifer's ministrations and he wasn't sure what he would do. Gabriel grabbed his hand and began rubbing small circles across Sam's knuckles with his thumb. Sam was on the verge of freaking out and Gabriel had no easy answers for him.

"Come on, Sam. You can grab a shower and freshen up. We'll find a solution, I promise."

* * *

 

Dean poured a very generous measure of bourbon into two glasses, and even threw in a couple ice cubes, just to be classy. He slid one across the table to Gabriel, who took an appreciative swig and flashed Dean a delighted grin.

"How's Sam?" Dean asked. Gabriel's grin dropped, but his expression was calm.

"He's OK. I can manage the situation for now. The fact my Grace is so low is actually an advantage. I can remain in close proximity without antagonizing Luci's Grace inside Sam." He sighed, "As long as I behave."

"Must be tough," Dean said sarcastically. Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at him.

"It is. But what about you and sweet little Castiel?" Gabriel winked at him. Dean's eyes widened and his jaw set.

"What are you implying?" he ground out. Gabriel waved airily, insouciant.

"He's a seraph. Seraphim have a... _reputation._ " Dean swallowed,  _Gabriel was just messing with his head._

"So you've never…" Dean couldn't bring himself to ask the question.

"With Castiel?" Gabriel was incredulous. "With that stick he used to have up his ass? Father, no! Now, Balthazar, there was an angel you could have some fun with."

"So, what did you mean by reputation?" Dean demanded despite himself. Gabriel's answering grin was fierce.

"Let's just say, despite darling Castiel's calm, gentle exterior, I'm willing to bet that you will not be in the driver's seat when he finally decides to take you to bed."

"I think you've got the wrong idea," Dean choked. Gabriel tossed the last of his bourbon back and slid his glass across to Dean for a refill.

"Your angel's going to top the Hell out of you. And you're going to love it." Dean scowled at the archangel's amusement.

"You don't know what you're talking about. We're friends. That's it." He sloshed more bourbon into Gabriel's glass and shoved it back forcefully, hoping it would spill. He topped off his own glass and took a couple of deep breaths. "We're getting off course. We're supposed to be talking about Sam." Gabriel's grin got wider, but he allowed Dean to change the subject.

"We should go and talk to Metatron," Gabriel suggested. "He always was a dick, and I don't imagine mortality has improved his personality any, but he does know a lot. He might know a way to get Luci's Grace out of Sam."

"It will come with a price tag." Dean warned. Gabriel was face was vicious.

"I have no doubt. Maybe we'll even consider paying it." There was the scrape of footsteps behind Dean and Cas' hand appeared on his shoulder.

"Dean." the angel rumbled. "It's time for bed." Gabriel chuckled with glee.

* * *

 

Gabriel considered the color of the bourbon in his glass, turning it in the light to appreciate the different tones as it mixed with the melting ice. The bunker was quiet. He smiled to himself at the look on Castiel's face when he'd all but dragged the older Winchester off to bed. It was late. Like all angels, Gabriel didn't typically need to sleep, although he liked to do it sometimes, but with his Grace so depleted it was necessary. He wondered if getting into bed with Sam was a good idea, putting temptation in his way. But his alternatives were minimal - the couch in the TV room or in one of the chairs in the library. The couch had possibilities, to be sure. But he found himself headed to Sam's room anyway.

Sam was sound asleep, his forehead smooth and his face relaxed. Gabriel gazed down at him. For all he'd done, and all he'd been through, Sam Winchester was a remarkably innocent soul. His sleeping face proved it.  _What terrible crime warranted the punishment of having not one but two archangels in love with you,_  he wondered. Lucifer was twisted and evil, but his devotion to Sam was real. And despite himself, he knew Sam felt some attraction to his brother in return. Hated it, hated himself for it. But there was a dark place in Sam, one that craved the subjugation Lucifer offered. Gabriel sighed. He wasn't much better than his brother in many ways. But he respected humanity, valued them. Luci didn't, even his devotion to Sam was that of a master to an adored pet. He wouldn't hesitate to obliterate Sam if he displeased him too much. Gabriel discarded his clothes. Sam would no doubt prefer it if he wore underwear, but really, how much could he be expected to behave. Sam was wearing pajama pants, but his chest was bare. Gabriel grinned, his Grace was pretty low but removing a few items of clothing should be within his power. Having divested Sam of his irritating clothes, he climbed into bed beside him and sprawled out across Sam's chest.

Sam woke slowly, aware again of a warm body pressed against his. He was in almost complete skin to skin contact from his chest to his knees and that was when he became uncomfortably aware that the pajama pants he'd worn to bed as a basic shield for his virtue had vanished. Gabriel pressed against him, equally as naked, and  _oh God._  This was not good. He shifted, trying to slide carefully out of bed without disturbing the archangel when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Going somewhere?" Gabriel asked lazily.

"I uh...gotta...go…" Gabriel gave a seductive smile. It was going to be the death of Sam.

"No morning kiss?" Gabriel drawled. Sam's breathing hitched.

"Uhh...I don't think...that's not a good idea, Gabriel." The archangel shrugged. "Seriously, Gabriel. We can't. I don't want to feel like I did yesterday." Gabriel slid one hand up Sam's chest, then around the back of his neck. He pulled Sam down for a kiss, gentle and soft with just a hint of his tongue. It was warm and sensual and Sam's eyes rolled back in his head. Gabriel deepened the kiss gradually, pulling himself gradually over Sam's body until Sam groaned and suddenly rolled them over so that he was poised above the archangel, his hair hanging down and his breathing harsh and rapid. He grabbed Gabriel's hair and tugged his head back, exposing his neck and throat. Gabriel shivered. Sam bit down hard at the point between Gabriel's neck and shoulder, until he tasted blood. Gabriel arched beneath him, gasping something incoherent. Sam was lost. The sound, the scent, the feel of Gabriel surrounded him. The archangel grasped Sam's shoulders.

"Sam!" he said urgently. "Sam!" Sam shrugged him off, without his Grace, Gabriel was no match for his strength, he could... he came up short.  _Where the Hell had that come from?_ He stared down at Gabriel and gulped a few lungfuls of air, before pushing himself up and off the bed. Gabriel watched as Sam struggled with desire and something darker that had raised its head. Sam was breathing hard and Gabriel cursed himself and his inability to resist temptation. He should have slept on the couch. He rolled out of bed and into his clothes so fast, Sam blinked. That seemed to jerk him out of his reverie, he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on roughly.

"Sam...I'm sorry. That was my fault. I…" Gabriel took a deep breath. "I should have slept elsewhere. I knew that last night." Sam seemed to have regained some measure of self-control.

"It's OK. We stopped. Hopefully in time…" he looked away. "I...I didn't hurt you did I?" Gabriel drew in another breath. In truth, although Sam had not hurt him, he had scared the Hell out of him, just for a moment. Gabriel didn't scare easy, but he was afraid of Lucifer and for a moment Sam had reminded him so much of his brother it had taken his breath away.

"No, Sam. I'm OK." He flashed a grin. "You spooked me for a moment, but it's OK." Sam nodded. "If I was at full power, you wouldn't have been able to do that to me."

"It's Lucifer's influence, isn't it?" Sam's frame was taut. Gabriel gave him a long look.

"Yes. And no. He can't make you behave completely out of character, no matter how many people claim the devil made them do it. He can suppress or enhance aspects of your personality as it suits him, but ultimately it's all you." Sam strode over to Gabriel, thrusting his hands into the archangel's hair and kissed him fiercely.

"Thank you." When Gabriel looked puzzled, he added, "for not lying to me."

* * *

 

Dean slouched into the kitchen - after a restless night worrying about Sam, he needed a serious hit of caffeine. Cas was already in there, and there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting.

"You're a lifesaver," he declared, pouring himself a generous serving and gulping half of it down immediately. "Is Sam up yet?"

"No," the angel rumbled.

"Gabriel had better be keeping his goddamn hands off my brother." Dean muttered sourly. Cas sighed.

"That's very unlikely. You cannot stop what's happening between them." Dean grabbed the angel by the arm and spun him around.

"What are you saying? What's going on here?" Dean advanced on Cas, shoving him against the counter, his teeth bared. "What is Gabriel doing to my brother?" The angel's gaze was steady.

"Gabriel and Sam are bonding. It's a natural consequence of...certain activities." Dean's jaw clenched.

"Didn't we just establish that certain activities were off the table? That those activities were antagonizing  _Lucifer_?" He slammed his coffee cup down on the counter. Cas shook his head.

"You are referring to sex." Dean glared at him,  _did he have to keep talking about it?_  "I am not talking about sex, Dean." Dean clapped his hands over his ears.

"Stop saying that word!" Cas looked at him, his head tilted curiously.

"It really does make you uncomfortable, thinking about Gabriel and your brother having-"

"I mean it, Cas." Dean dropped his arms and folded them over his chest.

"Why? What word do you want me to use? Making love?"

"NO. That's  _not_ better!" Dean's tone was sharp and his face set. Cas' eyes bored into him.

"Would you prefer fucking?" The angel snarled. Dean's jaw snapped shut with a click. The sudden harsh tone of the angel's voice had his blood pounding in his ears. Cas leaned forward, his lips at Dean's ear, his voice low. "Do you want me to talk about fucking, Dean?"  _Oh God, please._ Dean didn't even know what he was praying for anymore. He swallowed and turned his head just as Cas was leaning back and the tips of their noses brushed. They both froze. Cas' mouth was so, so close. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were wide. Dean's hands began to shake.  _This was getting out of hand._

"If you're not talking about...that, then what are you talking about?" Cas looked away.

"They are bonding." Dean grabbed Cas' chin, and turned his head to face him.

"Quit it with this enigmatic angel crap, Cas. What does that mean?" In retrospect, grabbing the angel's face like this probably wasn't smart, Dean thought. Cas was not at all impressed with being manhandled in this fashion.

"It is none of your business," the angel asserted angrily. Dean gulped, apparently he'd stepped over some invisible line. "You will not interfere."

"Cas, we're talking about Sam. You can't expect me to…" he was cut off by the angel's hand over his mouth. Cas shoved him backwards, against the fridge. His breath ghosted across Dean's skin.

"Enough, Dean. I have told you not to interfere. Do not defy me in this." He was breathing hard, trying to rein in his temper. Dean swallowed. The angel's eyes were dark and threatening, but there was no way he was going to let Cas dictate to him when it came to his brother. He pushed roughly at the angel, but Cas was utterly unmovable.

"Let me go, Cas." he said, muffled against Cas' palm. The angel dropped his hand from Dean's mouth, but kept him pinned in place. "Cas. Let me go." Dean repeated, his voice embarrassingly weak. The angel just stared down at him, the anger in his gaze bleeding into something else, hot and wanting. He could feel the length of the angel's body pressed against him and he gazed up at Cas, the moment balanced on a knife-edge.

The angel swallowed, and Dean watched the movement of his throat, before locking eyes with him once more. Cas leaned his head forward, and Dean held his breath. The angel's mouth was poised directly over his, and a fluttering feeling in Dean's chest was making him feel dizzy.

"What are we doing, Cas?" he asked, unsteadily.

"Dean," Cas whispered, his breath gliding across Dean's face, then he crashed their mouths together in a clash of lips and teeth and tongue. All thought fled as Dean submitted utterly to the angel's onslaught.  _Oh, God, oh please._  Dean was overwhelmed. He'd never wanted anything like he wanted this, this feeling of need winding tighter and tighter inside him until it forced a moan from his throat. The sound jolted him back to his senses.  _What the Hell were they doing?_  He tore his mouth away from Cas', pushing hard against the angel's chest. Cas released him, the angel open-mouthed and panting from a potent mix of shock, desire and chagrin.

Dean edged away, trembling and breathing unevenly, his eyes riveted on Cas. He was terrified, the explosion of desire and need between them had been building for days now and he'd been desperate to suppress it, to ignore the tension that had ratcheted up every time they were in the same room. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Cas swallowed, too frightened to move.  _This was it, he'd done it and now it was all over. Dean would never forgive him for this._  He choked on a sob that lodged in his throat. Dean continued to edge away from him, and Cas could only helplessly watch him go.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel have to clean up the mess, Sam and Dean go on a vamp hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little more violent than we've had so far. Just giving you all a heads up.

Sam tapped at his computer, which he had balanced awkwardly on one knee as he sat on the edge of the bed. Behind him, Gabriel had gone back to sleep and was snoring softly. He scrolled idly through his email. Mostly junk, plus a few updates from an online hunters' forum Garth had set up years ago for swapping tips and info. An alert flagged up a new thread entitled 'Giant leeches and other monster bugs'. He frowned and clicked on the link.

Ghostbane76 had written a post about some giant leeches, mutant cockroaches and a maggot the size of a minivan he'd encountered in Fort Belvoir, VA. A few other hunters had chimed in, mostly with snarky jokes about an old experimental nuclear reactor that had gone critical there, sometime in the 1950s. But one poster, WhitbyX, had responded seriously. He'd been savaged by what he described as a mutant ladybugs in Annapolis, MD. Just a twenty miles from the warehouse where they'd found Gabriel. Sam logged in using one of a dozen aliases he used on the site - cerealkiller - and wrote a quick reply.

"Got attacked by a giant leech and some monster locusts in Glen Burnie. Salted the leech and shot it to Hell but not before it bit me - sucker was venomous too. Locusts taken out with headshots. Nasty. Any idea where they're coming from?"

He clicked 'Post'. Maybe someone out there would know what those things were and if they were related to Metatron's activities. He returned to his email to see if anything else had come up. There was a message from Jodi Mills, he smiled to himself and opened it.

_Hi Sam,_

_I got a case for you from a friend of mine, Jenny Bailey, in Hastings, NE. She and I met at a police conference several years ago. She's got a set of mutilation killings in her area that they're calling bear attacks but since most bears don't kick down doors or jemmy open windows, I figured this was up your street. Can you check it out for me, or put another hunter on the case? I've attached a local newspaper article on the killings._

_love,_

_Jodi_

He felt a touch on his arm and looked up to see Gabriel had awoken. He was a vision, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his face creased on one side and a indolent grin on his face. Sam smiled, contentment was a rare feeling and he wanted to enjoy it.

"Hey, Sammy," he drawled. "Reading anything juicy?" Sam shook his head.

"Maybe. Got an email from Jodi about some suspect bear slayings in Nebraska. It's close so we should probably check it out. Other than that, just sharing info online with a few other hunters. Someone saw a few bugs like the ones we encountered in the warehouse." Gabriel frowned, Sam's vivid description of the mutant leech and giant grasshoppers had been disturbing. Gabriel had never come across anything like that and neither had Castiel. By all the rules of biology, they shouldn't exist, which suggested they were supernatural in origin.

"I don't know, Sam. Giant bugs doesn't really sound like Metatron's handiwork. Could be a coincidence." Gabriel told him. Sam was unconvinced.

"Look, there are way too many coincidences going on in that part of the world. Metatron's warehouse with you trapped inside. Giant bugs and creepy crawlies. Then there are the mysterious fires in Baltimore city. Something is going on there and coincidence just doesn't cut it."

* * *

Sam and Gabriel padded barefoot into the kitchen, hoping to scrounge up something to eat. Neither of them were prepared for the scene that confronted them. Cas was standing near the fridge, his clothing askew and his mouth reddened. He looked so completely devastated that Sam's breath hitched at the sight. Dean was similarly disheveled, his lips swollen and he was edging his way out of the room, his face stunned and horrified.  _Oh, shit._

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but his brother had taken to his heels. He looked at Cas, who seemed incapable of speech.

"Cas?" he prompted gently. Gabriel placed one hand on Sam's arm.

"Go after Dean. I'll take care of Castiel." Sam nodded in agreement and headed down the hall in pursuit of his brother.

* * *

Finding Dean was not hard, he was a creature of habit and Sam knew that in times of adversity his brother clung to the few constants in his life. As he expected, he found Dean curled up in the front seat of the Impala, his eyes screwed tight and breathing hard. His big brother, who faced down monsters so terrifying that any rational person would run away screaming, was having a panic attack. He opened the door and Dean's eyes shot open, wide and staring.

"Sam," he croaked. His breathing was far too rapid, his skin too pale and he was sweating and trembling. Sam slid into the driver's seat, forcing Dean to move backwards into the passenger side.

"Dean, hey. You need to calm down there, man. Try and focus on your breathing. Nice and slow. You're OK." Dean gave him a wild look, then nodded. He leaned forward, his hands dangling between his knees and his shoulders shaking. But he managed to exert his will over his body, his breathing began to slow and the trembling receded. Sam waited patiently. This process could not be rushed. After several minutes, Dean's head came up and he seemed more in control. Sam had no intention of pushing his brother to speak, so he was surprised when Dean opened his mouth.

"Sam." His voice was still a little wobbly. "Thanks."

"No problem," Sam said easily. "You wanna hang out here a while?" Dean nodded. "OK, how about this, I got a case I want to check out, it's no more than two hours from here. You up for that?"

"Wait." Sam looked at him in surprise. "C-c-cas?" That was apparently all he could manage.

"Gabriel's with him. Do you want me to-" Sam trailed off, not sure what he was going to offer to do. Dean leaned against the car door and rested his head against the cool glass, his eyes distant. "Never mind. You just wanna chill out here? The case can wait." Dean grabbed his arm.

"Talk. Tell me." Well, at least they were into sentences now. Two word sentences, but Sam would take what he could get.

"OK, so get this. A whole family were slaughtered in their home about six weeks ago. Door appeared to have been kicked in. Then it happened again a week later. This time the kitchen window was forced. Every week since, one family gets hit. Local PD are calling it bear attacks, but unless these are smarter than your average bears, I'm thinking vamp nest." Dean lifted his head. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. Was this working?

"So, you wanna check it out?" Eureka, actual conversation!

"Well, yeah. It's close and we've been holed up in here for a few days. A simple monster hunt might be just what we need." Sam looked at his brother. Dean nodded.

"OK, let's go. We've driven further for less."

"Let me grab a few things and tell Gabriel we're heading out. I'll be back soon." He climbed out of the car and headed back to the kitchen, wondering how they were going to repair the damage his repressed brother and the emotionally inexperienced angel had managed to do to their relationship.

* * *

Gabriel leaned against the counter with studied casualness, watching Castiel carefully. He considered his options, his brother was very fragile right now and Gabriel did not want him to fly apart at the seams.

"Castiel," he prompted. The angel looked up, quivering.

"I-" he said incoherently. Gabriel sighed. He couldn't decide what was worse, humans who couldn't handle their emotional states or angels who were so inexperienced with feelings they were like a toddler with a loaded gun.

"Sam will take care of Dean. Don't flip out on me, Castiel." he told him. The angel drooped slightly and began to shuffle out of the kitchen. Gabriel stepped in front of him.

"Woah, where are you going? I agree this might not be the best place for having a freak out, but I'm not happy with you roaming the halls in this condition." He dug in his pockets and found a couple of lollipops Sam had procured for him. He handed one to Castiel, who accepted it with a bewildered expression. "You're in shock. Sugar helps," Gabriel explained and tore the wrapper off his before popping it in his mouth. "I'm in shock too," he added, the sound garbled by the candy in his mouth. Castiel stared at him then slowly unwrapped the lollipop in his hand. He tentatively placed it in his mouth. Gabriel watched him, his brother looked faintly ridiculous like this but laughing out loud would probably be a bad idea. He sucked contemplatively on his treat, letting the silence stretch out until Castiel pulled the lollipop out of his mouth.

"I will have to leave the bunker. You'll be all right here, without your Grace, this place is well protected." He looked at Gabriel sadly and headed for the door once more, dragging his feet as he went. Gabriel tried to block him, but depowered as he was, he was no match for Castiel. He followed his brother to his room, tugging at his sleeves, the tail of his coat, anything.

"Castiel, wait" His brother was as hard-headed as ever it seemed. Once inside his room, Castiel had cast a glance around at his few possessions and swallowed.

"Castiel!" Gabriel demanded. "You're running away." The angel turned to him, a spark of anger igniting in his gaze.

"You would know all about that," he growled. Gabriel winced.

"Low blow, bro. But you're right. Which is why I'm trying to stop you. Running away didn't solve anything in the end. Not for me, and it won't for you either." Castiel was unmoved.

"I have made my decision. I am leaving. Get out of my way, I don't want to hurt you." He stepped out into the hall, right into the path of Dean, who had decided to come indoors for a few items for the road. Dean gasped and Castiel froze. Gabriel cursed under his breath.

"You're leaving?" Dean managed weakly. Castiel gave a stiff nod.

"I believe it would be for the best. I apologize, Dean. I promised not to embarrass you again and you were gracious enough to forgive me for my previous transgression. But yet again, I trespassed on your good will and your was unforgivable." He moved to step around Dean and was surprised when the hunter grabbed his arm.

"Hold up a second there, Cas." The angel flinched at the use of the nickname that Dean had given him. "I didn't ask you to leave. I wouldn't. This is your home now." Castiel quivered, and Gabriel wondered if he ought to make his presence known to Dean.

"You are generous. But I believe it is too risky for me to remain. It seems I am unable to control myself around you, and I do not wish to cause you further pain or mortification." He pulled his arm away but Dean was not ready to back down.

"Stop, Cas. Just stop. I said you don't have to leave and I meant it. You and me, we're off the map here, and we have been for a while. And right now I don't know how I feel about that. But I want you to stay." Castiel just stared at Dean. Gabriel really wished he could just click out of here. After a moment, Castiel swallowed and nodded.

"If you really don't wish for me to leave, I will stay. But if you change your mind, I will understand."

* * *

Dean was silent on the drive to Hastings, even leaving the radio off. Sam desperately wanted to probe further into exactly what had gone down between his brother and Cas in the kitchen, although he was pretty sure he already knew. But it was too soon, so Sam left it alone. Hopefully Gabriel would have more luck with Cas while they were gone.

Sheriff Jenny Bailey was a tall, bluff woman with curly red hair and a no-nonsense demeanor. Sam liked her immediately and could see why she and Jodi were friends.

"Of course, I have to say that Jodi surprised me when she said she believed in some things that, frankly sound like something from a movie." Jenny had said. "But she's solid, is Jodi, so if she says listen to you boys, well, I trust her." And with that she'd led them into a small room at the station that apparently had originally been built as a school, which accounted for it's strange layout. Having supplied the files, tapes of the 911 calls and a supply of coffee she left them to it.

The files for each incident were very similar. The killers seemed to be targeting large families on properties that did not have close neighbors, probably to reduce the chance of someone overhearing and calling the police. The medical examiner's reports described the throats as being torn open and the bodies exsanguinated. In many cases, there were pre-mortem mutilations such as limbs being removed, broken bones and in one particularly gruesome case a young woman had been disembowelled. Sam passed some of the photos to Dean.

"Check these out - these look like vamp kills to you?" Dean peered at them and when he saw what Sam was getting at, looked up.

"Vamps who use blades? I mean, it could happen but why?" he observed. Sam tugged at his hair as he considered the question.

"Unless they've incorporated some kind of ritualistic elements, yeah I don't get it either." He pulled out a map of the kills and tapped it with a pen. "All the attacks are within this region here. And there's an eyewitness for the third slaying here, a Melissa Hart."

"Yeah? What did she say?" Sam pushed the statement from the file at his brother.

"Not much. But she definitely didn't report a bear, unless these bears drive minivans too."

"Don't suppose she got the tag?" Dean asked, hopefully.

"Yep. Registered to a Louis Montgomery. Lives here," he pointed to a location on the map close to the first incident. Supposedly they're a self-sustaining community out there. Hippies making their own clothes and growing their own vegetables." Dean snorted.

"Yeah, and their own weed. Wanna go check it out?" Sam started to collect up the papers and clean up.

"It's the only lead we've got."

* * *

The farm was quiet as Dean carefully nosed the Impala down a dirt track towards the house. Finally, it got too rough to continue and it was clear they would have to approach the house on foot. There were few trees or other sources of cover, which Dean complained about almost continuously. Sam gave him a look.

The house was old, and in need of repainting. The screen door was half-hanging off and an ancient wood-chime lay in pieces on the porch. There was no doorbell or knocker, so Dean hammered at the door with his fist and was surprised when it swung open with a creak. Holding his machete at the ready, Sam crept into the house, Dean keeping a wary eye behind him. The inside of the house was as badly maintained as the outside. A hideous flower-patterned wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the floor was covered in a carpet so dirty and threadbare it's original pattern and color were uncertain. Nobody had cleaned in a really long time and the air was stale and musty. There was a staircase directly opposite the front door. Sam tilted his head to indicate he was heading upstairs, Dean nodded and turned to open the door on his right.

The stairs were sagging and rotten and Sam almost put his foot through a large hole about halfway up. And still the place was absolutely silent. Maybe no-one actually live here, maybe it was a mail drop and place to register the car and nothing else. In which case, they were at a dead end. Upstairs a creepy painting of a cat with staring eyes was placed prominently on the wall, it was like something from a garage sale but with a smear of brown paint across the cat's mouth as an unwelcome addition. Or possibly it was dried blood. Sam didn't really want to examine it too closely. He pushed open the first door with his foot. The paint was peeling and yellowed and he expected the hinges to squeak but it opened smoothly and silently.

Sam barely had a second to take in the frilly pink decor when someone launched themselves at him, shrieking and cursing. The machete skittered across the floor and under the bed. He struggled for a moment, winded by the foot that had thrust into his solar plexus, but the young woman he was tangling with was not that strong and within a moment he was able to gain the upper hand and pin her to the floor. A brief inspection suggested that she was human, albeit not too clean and crazy as all get out. She continued to struggle futilely beneath him.  _Dammit._

"Hey, hey. It's OK. I'm not gonna hurt you." Sam told her. He realized she was actually shackled on a long chain attached to the bed frame beside them. "You're a prisoner? Who are you?" She spat at him. Sam gritted his teeth,  _really people could be so ungrateful._ Irritated, he stood up and cursed as she thrust herself upwards and the top of her head collided with his chin, clamping his teeth down hard on his tongue.

The taste of his own blood flooded his mouth and his temper flared. His hands shot out and grabbed her by the neck, pushing her back down towards the floor. Ruby's knife was suddenly in his hand and he pressed the blade against the soft flesh of her throat. She turned her head, drawing the sharp edge across her skin and sank her teeth into his thumb and before he knew what was happening, Sam had sliced her from ear to ear. He stared down at her, blood pooling around her head and swallowed. She'd been human and he had not intended to kill her. But now she was dead.

He dragged himself to his feet and wiped the blood spatter off his face with one sleeve. Reaching under the bed to retrieve his machete, his hand glanced against a wooden box. He pulled it out. It was some kind of jewelry box, made of a strange pinkish wood. Inside were handwritten letters on perfumed paper. He tucked them in a pocket and returned to the hall.

The racket he'd made fighting with the woman in the pink room should have disturbed the house, but it was still quiet. The next door led to another bedroom, where a man around Sam's age was sleeping. The room was decorated like a child's room in bright colors that had faded with time. As Sam stepped forward, a board beneath his foot creaked and the man on the bed rolled out of bed and into a fighting stance. This was Louis Montgomery, Sam surmised, remembering the photo from the man's driver's license. Sam blinked, Louis had grabbed a longsword from under the mattress.  _Oh, great._  The way he was holding it, the tip pointed towards the floor, and the ease of his stance suggested he knew how to fight with it too. They circled each other warily.

"You're Louis Montgomery." he said, feeling stupid.

"I was." Louis replied. "Now, I am a God." Sam rolled his eyes and Louis lunged forward with the sword, slicing a shallow cut to Sam's upper arm. Sam aimed a kick at Louis' sword hand and the blade flew out of his hand and landed on the floor with a clatter. In two strides he was on the shorter man, the blade of the machete lined up to take off his head. Louis began to laugh.

"Such weapons cannot harm me, foolish mortal." he hissed. Sam's momentum carried the blade forward and Louis' head came off in one clean sweep. As soon as his still twitching body collapsed to the floor, it was clear that this man was no more a vamp than the girl next door. What was going on here?

Two more young women jumped him as soon as he left Louis' room, and he gasped for breath as they pummeled at him in the tight quarters of the hallway. Finally, unwilling to kill any more humans but at the end of his patience, he shoved one of them backwards and watched in dismay as she smashed straight through the rotten banister at the top of the stairs and fell shrieking to the floor below. Her companion jabbed at his eyes with her thumbs and he dodged, bringing up his elbow on instinct. It smashed into her nose and blood exploded everywhere. Stunned, she stood swaying for a moment, then crumpled to the floor. When she wouldn't respond, Sam checked her pulse, which stuttered under his fingers and then stopped.

The final door led to a bathroom that was like a slaughterhouse. Red-brown liquid stained the tub and spattered up the patchily tiled walls. Sam caught a glimpse of himself reflected crazily in a broken mirror above the sink. He looked like serial killer, Sam thought idly, with a blood spattered, slightly demented grin.

* * *

Dean cursed as the three young men who'd leaped at him as soon as he'd entered the kitchen simultaneously beat on him. None of them were vamps, just regular crazy humans as far as he could tell. He could hear sounds of fighting upstairs, Sam had clearly found more trouble up there. Finally, tired of trying not to hurt these morons, he slammed the palm of his hand upwards into the nose of the largest of the three, who collapsed. Kicking out one foot into the groin of the blond moron, he looked up to see Sam slashing his machete down and decapitating the redhead, then pivot and take out the blond as well. Dean stood there, looking at his brother. Sam was painted in blood, and he was breathing hard. His eyes were bright and there was a hint of a smile twitching at his mouth. Dean was reminded uncomfortably of an old memory of seeing Sam like this. He shook the thought off, his brother was just riding the adrenaline high from the fight.

"So what have we got?" he asked, wiping at his face. Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

"Three down here, one out in the hall fell from the second floor, plus three more up there. Seven. All human, not a vamp among them." Dean stared at Sam in consternation.

"Human? You're sure?" Sam nodded at his brother's dismayed question, his face twisting with annoyance. "Awesome. Humans, man." Dean muttered and strode away, suddenly wanting to be as far away from this horror show as possible. Outside the farmhouse, Sam caught his arm.

"We can't go around looking like this. We need to clean up." Dean's face wrinkled at the thought of using the facilities inside that hideous house. Sam pointed to an outside faucet. "It's not perfect but it should be good enough, we can change out of these clothes in the car."

"Not  _in_  the car." Dean insisted. Sam looked at the house, and then cast a look at Dean.

"We'll have to burn down the house as well."

* * *

Once they'd left the farmhouse burning merrily behind them, Dean drove determinedly towards the bunker, trying to put as many miles between them and that disaster as possible. Sam pulled out the letters he'd retrieved and began to read through them.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Letters, one of the women had in a box under her bed. They seem to be from her sister, Annie. They start out pretty normal but after the first couple, Annie's pleading with her sister to come home. From the details, I'd say we stumbled on the early days of some kind of Manson family cult." Sam said. Dean flicked him a glance.

"Cult, huh? So you think they were going out and killing for kicks and giggles? Pretending to vampires?" Sam shrugged.

"I dunno. Maybe."

"I'd like something a bit more solid than 'maybe'." Dean scratched at his stubble, looking uncomfortable. "We just butchered seven people, Sam. Not monsters. Humans. Crazy, but still people."

"Well, they weren't very nice people," Sam said facetiously. Dean just looked even more troubled.

"Doesn't this bother you?" he asked pointedly. Sam just sighed. "Not even a little bit?"

"Of course, I wish we hadn't had to kill them, but what choice did we have?" Sam leveled a look at his brother. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK. You're right, they didn't give us much choice." he admitted. Sam shook his head.

"No, I mean, this was meant to be a simple monster hunt, just to blow off some steam." He looked at Dean. "We still need to talk." Dean glared at him.

"No. We don't." His hands tightened on the wheel and he forced his eyes firmly back to the road.

"Yeah, we do. You and Cas-" Dean wrenched the wheel suddenly to the right and threw the car into park. He turned in his seat to look at Sam.

"Why can't you leave this alone, Sam?" he snarled. Sam leaned back against the window and gave his brother a searching look.

"Because whatever happened in the kitchen, whatever is going on between you two, you need to deal with it. Not bury it under a pile of anger and bourbon. You're my brother, Cas is my friend and I'd like you both to be happy." Sam squirmed a little at the look on Dean's face, aware of his hypocrisy. But Dean just looked away.

"Me and Cas-" his voice broke. "I don't know what happened. We were arguing, about you and Gabriel. I guess I made him mad, because he shoved me up against the fridge. Next thing I know…" Sam bit his lip, he could guess the rest but if he said anything now, Dean would probably clam up. "I guess I freaked out." He fell silent.

"You're still freaking out." Sam observed. Dean looked down at the dashboard. "So, what happens next?"

"I dunno, man," Dean said tiredly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe if we ignore it, things will go back to the way they were." Sam blew out a breath of frustration.

"Do you really think that's possible, or even wise?" he asked. "Are you sure it won't just blow up again in a few weeks?"

"It's all I got, Sammy." And with that, the conversation was over. Dean switched on the radio and began tapping his fingers along to ZZ Top.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery around Metatron's plan deepens...

It was after midnight when the Winchesters got back to the bunker. Dean made a beeline for his room with a grunt. Sam tiptoed into his bedroom where Gabriel was sound asleep, grabbed his laptop and headed to the library. He was still too wired from the day's events to sleep and he really ought to email Jodi about what had happened. Or some version of events anyway. Sam opened his laptop and logged into his email. There were a few messages, but he really wanted to write to Jodi before the news of the massacre at the Montgomery farm got back to her another way.

_Dear Jodi,_

_Dean and I checked out the case in Hastings. Jenny was very helpful. We found a vamp nest at the Montgomery farmstead, Jenny will find the place mysteriously burned down last night. Probably bad wiring in an old, poorly maintained property._

_Thanks for giving us the heads up. I hope Jenny forgives us for just blowing town after taking care of the problem._

_love,_

_Sam_

He didn't feel good about lying to Jodi, but telling the truth would have consequences neither he nor his brother wanted to deal with right now. They'd discussed it on the drive back and Dean had been even more unhappy about it than Sam, but had at least seen reason, for once. He scanned the new messages, an update from the hunters' forum that new messages had been posted and an email from an unknown address, probably spam. He clicked on it anyway, wondering if he was going to regret it. The email was short.

_How was the battle of Hastings? You seemed to be enjoying yourself._

There was an image file attached to the email. Sam was certain it was a terrible idea but he opened it anyway and gasped. The image was a photo of his reflection in the broken mirror of the Montgomery farm. From the angle it looked like a selfie but that was impossible, yet the only way for this picture to exist was if Sam had taken it himself. But no matter how it had been taken, someone was clearly trying to send him a message. He swallowed, was it a threat? Or a warning? Either way, Dean would go nuts if he saw it. He deleted the email and the image, then closed his laptop. As he got up to leave, he saw that Cas had entered the library and was standing silently in the doorway, watching him.  _Shit, had he seen the picture?_  He got up and walked over to the angel.

"Hey, Cas? Uh, how are you doing?" Cas tensed and Sam wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"I still think I should have left. But Dean specifically requested that I stay, how can I refuse?" he said helplessly. Sam clasped the angel's shoulder.

"I'm sure you can work this out, Cas. Don't give up on Dean. But, you might have to be patient with him." He gave the angel a sympathetic look. "He'll want to sweep it all under the rug. It's up to you how you handle that, but for what it's worth, I wouldn't let him if I were you." Cas shook his head in denial.

"If we can repair the damage I have wrought, then I will be happy to retain Dean's friendship. I can ask no more than that."

* * *

Dean drained his coffee and banged the mug down on the library table with considerably more force than seemed necessary. Cas jolted.

"Gabriel seems to think Metatron will have answers for us about how we pry Lucifer's Grace out of my brother's soul. So I guess we're all going on a little road trip." Dean announced. Cas looked wary.

"Maybe I should stay here. I'm not sure I can restrain myself around him, Dean." Dean flashed a grin at him.

"I'm sort of relying on that actually. I mean, he's a little toad and I can kick his ass no problem. But I'm willing to bet he's more scared of you." Cas looked uncomfortable. 'Besides, Sam and Gabriel are coming along and you can't leave me outnumbered."

"Very well. I hope you know what you're doing," the angel relented.

"I  _always_ know what I'm doing," Dean asserted as Sam strode in juggling his laptop, cups of coffee and a paper bag, Gabriel sauntering in behind him.

"Since when?" Sam snarked. Dean flickered a glance over them both. The archangel looked strange, dressed in a pair of Dean's jeans rolled up to accommodate his shorter legs and a t-shirt that must have been one of Sam's because it completely swamped his frame. Sam deposited everything in his hands onto the table and settled in front of his laptop. Gabriel pulled a chair up alongside and dived greedily into the paper bag. He pulled out a bear claw in triumph and began picking it apart, eating some morsels and feeding others to Sam. Dean made a disgusted noise. Irritated, Sam grabbed the bag and tossed it at his brother.

Dean caught it easily, and looked inside, then hesitantly looked up at Cas. "Uh, cherry danish, almond croissant, or apple cronut?" The angel blinked.

"I don't even know what the last one is." he said cautiously.

"A cronut? It's a cross between a croissant and a donut, I think." Looking like Dean had suggested something monstrous, Cas shook his head.

"Almond croissant. If you don't want it particularly." he requested. Dean pulled the pastry out gingerly with a napkin and placed it on Cas' outstretched hand. His fingertips grazed Cas' palm and they both jumped.

"Thank you." Cas whispered and applied his entire focus to his breakfast. Dean suddenly wondered if this had been such a good idea, his last memory of watching Cas eat a croissant was-" he cut the thought off and pulled out the cronut. He pushed the paper bag back at Sam, technically the cherry danish was his, although he seemed to have consumed a good deal of Gabriel's bear claw. Gabriel was leaning so far over, it probably would have been more comfortable for him to sit on Sam's lap. That thought had him choking as he inhaled pieces of cronut and Sam had to come and pound on his back.

"Your bakery product is an abomination," Cas observed dryly. "This is the proof." Dean stared at him,  _was he making a joke?_ Suddenly, the whole absurdity of it, Cas' disapproval of the cronut, this whole stupid mess between them, even the disturbing relationship between Sam and Gabriel, all of it pulled sharply into focus and he began to laugh. Harder and harder he laughed until he could hardly breathe, tears running down his face. Sam and Cas stared at him in consternation, Gabriel chuckled along as if he were in on the joke. Finally, he mastered himself and gave an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. That was... funny." He stretched out in his chair then looked back at Cas, who was still regarding him like the man who caught a tiger by the tail. He grinned at him. The angel stared, then began to relax. A tiny smile tugged at his lips. Sam and Gabriel exchanged glances.

Maybe things were going to work themselves out after all.

Sam browsed through his email, and saw that the hunter's forum had alerted him to a new reply to his message. He clicked on the link, then swore with surprise.

"cerealkiller, i've seen the giant leeches too, MD, VA and DE. Heard a report out of Ocean City, MD that a scuba diver harvesting oysters came up covered in the bastards. Buddies speared them but the diver died. Local media reported it as a heart attack. I also killed a giant maggot like WhitbyX, in Alexandria, and a mutant cockroach in wilmington. Not the locusts tho, that's a new one. I don't know what's going on in the mid-atlantic but whatever it is, it's covered in bugs." Sam looked at Gabriel, who was perched on his shoulder to read the thread. Gabriel gave him a come-hither look and Sam leaned in for a slow,easy kiss. He pulled away when Dean cleared his throat. He turned the laptop so Dean could read the screen.

"Check this out." Dean squinted at the posting and read it aloud. Cas frowned.

"This is very odd," he commented. "Could it be some kind of cursed object?" Dean's gaze lifted to meet the angel's eyes.

"That's a good suggestion. Looks like we're going back to Maryland." Sam held up a hand.

"Not until we have a better feel for the location. Maryland, Delaware, Virginia, that's a lot of geography to cover. Let me map out all the known occurrences, maybe we can find some kind of origin. And didn't you just say you wanted to go talk to Metatron? He's in the opposite direction." Dean tugged at his shirt.

"We could split up. Cas and I will go talk to Metatron, You and Gabriel go check out the pest controllers nightmare." The angel's head came up in alarm.

"Let's see what we have first, then make a decision." Sam replied easily, aware of the sudden tension. He picked up his laptop and headed into the war room. Gabriel shot a significant look at Castiel, then followed Sam out of the library.

* * *

Dean studied the angel, who was gradually shredding his napkin into atoms. He took a deep breath.

"Hey, Cas." The angel startled and looked up, his gaze vulnerable. Dean bit his lip. "You uh, you doin' OK?" Cas gave him a small smile, blinking rapidly.

"Yes, Dean. I am well." He fell silent, and the quiet stretched out thin and taut. "How are you feeling?" he added.

"I'm OK." Dean replied. "I'm-" he broke off and looked away. But his gaze soon returned to the angel's face. "I owe you an apology." he said finally. Cas looked surprised.

"No, Dean. You don't," he said earnestly. Dean was adamant.

"I do. I treated you like shit, and you don't deserve it. And it's not the first time. I sometimes wonder how we're still friends." That was a lot of honesty all at once, so he paused and took a swallow of cold coffee. "We are still friends, right?" The angel stiffened and for a moment Dean thought he'd blown it.

"You do not have to ask me that. No matter what, I will always be your friend." Cas said, his voice cracking.

"Good, that's good." Dean said lamely. "I uh, don't have many friends really. Like, trust with my life, always got my back kind of friends." He paused. "Actually, there's really only you. Sam's my brother, so it's different. Bobby's dead." He closed his eyes briefly, saying that aloud still stung. "Charlie's dead." God, that was worse. The wound of Charlie's death was still fresh and bleeding. "Ellen, Jo..." His voice was faint.

"Dean," the angel rumbled. He looked up. Cas was standing in front of him, looking down at him with concern. Dean huffed in a couple of breaths, fought off the tears that threatened and then leaned back. Cas blinked at the expression on his face. "I am always here for you, Dean." he said soothingly. Dean sucked in another breath.

"Sorry, man. I'm being a girl. We cool?" Cas regarded him steadily. Dean wondered what he was thinking behind his inscrutable expression.

"Yes, Dean. We are cool." Dean grinned.

"Awesome." he glanced into the war room, where Sam and Gabriel were plotting incidents on a large map Sam had drawn on a flipchart. There was a contented look on Sam's face. He was always happiest doing research, having Gabriel as a hyperactive assistant should have been annoying but instead his brother looked like he was in Heaven. Dean's chest tightened. He may not like Gabriel, or trust him. But he made Sam happy. That counted for a lot.

* * *

Sam gazed at the map he and Gabriel had constructed. They'd sketched out the outlines of the three states, adding major cities and highways then plotted all the insect sightings with red push pins. Acting on inspiration, Sam added the mysterious fires with blue pins, the location of Metatron's warehouse with a black pin and some other strange occurrences gleaned from local newspapers with yellow. Stepping back, his mouth dropped. If he drew a circle with a radius of about 75 miles, the warehouse was at the exact epicenter of all the events they had mapped.

"Look, Gabriel." he breathed. The archangel looked skeptical.

"You've fitted a giant circle to a map where you've plotted a bunch of random incidents. That's a lot of territory Sam, and ever since you and Dean let Azazel open the gates of Hell, the world's been pretty full of monsters." He squinted at the map, then gestured for the Sharpie in Sam's hand. "But, try this!" He drew several lines connecting various points, then stepped back. Sam frowned. The lines intersected at several points, like a rune or a sigil but not one he was familiar with.

"What is it?" Gabriel grinned.

"It's an Enochian symbol. The incidents are side-effects of a powerful ritual inscribing this symbol into the very aura of the earth. It's very impressive work. Doing something on this scale takes skill."

"What does it do?" Sam asked. Gabriel frowned, and looked uncomfortable.

"Well, that's the part that makes no sense. It's Lucifer's name."

Sam looked up, startled. "That can't be a coincidence."

"No, Sam. It can't." Gabriel agreed. Dean and Castiel had entered the room and Castiel had gasped when he saw what Gabriel had drawn. Dean looked puzzled.

"Hey, what's up with the art project?" Dean kept his voice light though he didn't like the look on Sam's face, who looked like he might throw up.

"Lucifer's sigil?" Castiel breathed. "What is this?" Sam exhaled slowly.

"Gabriel and I mapped out a number of strange incidents in Delaware, Maryland and Virginia." He tapped the center of the circle. "This is where we found Gabriel." Castiel was shaking his head.

"No, no. Metatron would not go so far." he said, aghast. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder.

"After everything he did to you, took  _from_ you, are you sure?" The angel swallowed.

"Everything Metatron does makes sense, if you accept his basic premise that he knows how to write a good story. Inscribing Lucifer's name in the earth's very essence, on such a scale. What does that achieve?"

"You write your name on things you own," Sam said. "Maybe it's a way of claiming that place for Lucifer."

"But what would Lucifer do with a chunk of real estate in the Mid-Atlantic?" Dean objected.

"Well, assuming everything in the circle I've drawn is somehow subject to the power of the sigil, notice what's in that area. Washington, DC. The Pentagon. A number of US federal government agencies have their headquarters in the area around DC. And we're just over a year out from a presidential election." Dean blinked.

"We are?" he asked.

"Yes, we are. Don't you watch the news?" Sam said impatiently. His brother shuffled his feet.

"You know I don't pay attention to politics. All a bunch of bullshit if you ask me. I suppose you vote."

"Always," Sam said, a little smugly. Dean creased his forehead.

"Here, in Kansas?"

"No, I'm registered at my old address in Stanford." Sam explained. Dean shook his head.

"Wow. Is that legal?" Sam shrugged.

"Maybe. I still keep in touch with my landlord, she forwards my mail to a P.O. Box."

"So, what, you think Lucifer might be planning a move on a presidential candidate? Seems… boring, I mean, what would that achieve?" Dean asked. Sam's eyebrows rose.

"All the nukes we have, you can't think of a single use the devil might have for those?"

Gabriel looked troubled. "Nukes? So what? Lucifer and Michael's battle would have been much more powerful than all the nukes in the world combined. Humanity's attempts at self-destruction are impressive, but still dwarfed by the power of an archangel," he pointed out. "No, this is about something else."

"Well then, what?" Sam challenged. Gabriel slumped.

"That's the trouble. I don't know."

* * *

Cas was in the library, reading from a very old, handwritten book and making notes, Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted the angel carefully. "Where's Gabriel?" The angel looked up.

"He's looking through some of the Men of Letters files in the basement. I think he is hoping he can find more lore that can help with that piece of Lucifer's Grace in your soul," Cas replied. "But angels were not present on earth in large numbers until recently, so I do not think he will find much." Sam tilted his head, trying to see what the angel was reading. Cas held it up for him to see.  _The Heptameron by Pietro d'Abano._  Sam's eyebrows rose, no-one was even sure that the grimoire existed.

"Where did you get that?" he asked.

"It was here in the library. The Men of Letters acquired this, the only known copy, from the Inquisition archives by covert means." Cas explained, his voice amused. Sam stared at him.

"That can't have been easy." he said in surprise.

"They may have had a little help," Cas responded easily, with a shrug. Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Are you in there?" Cas smiled at him, clearly impressed.

"Of course. I am the angel of Thursday, remember." He frowned. "Except for some reason d'Abano confused me with Sachiel, angel of Saturday."

"Is this the angelic equivalent of Googling yourself?" Sam asked with a grin. "What are you looking for?" Cas gave him a speculative look.

"d'Abano got most of his information from someone who claimed to be a fallen angel. I don't know who, but they were certainly remarkably well informed which lends weight to the credibility of their claim." Cas told him. "There are multiple references in the grimoire to the use of angel sigils as protection for artifacts of power, places of particular importance and people of special significance." Understanding dawned on Sam.

"You're trying to figure out the purpose of that sigil of Lucifer's we found. You think there might be something at that warehouse that we missed? Or was this about Gabriel?" Sam pondered.

"Using Lucifer's sigil to protect Gabriel would be a strange decision, but having already used the sigil to protect something else, putting Gabriel in the same location makes sense." Cas replied.

"You think Gabriel was in that warehouse because it was protected, not the other way around. But could the protection not just be for Metatron's experiments?" Sam countered, a strange, cold feeling trickling down his spine. Cas considered it for a moment.

"I don't think so. I think the selection of Lucifer's sigil is significant, and deliberate. Metatron could have used his own, or Gadreel's, or if it had to be an archangel's, then Gabriel, Raphael and Michael would all have been more obvious choices. There's clearly a reason it is Lucifer's and I cannot figure out what that can be." The angel's eyes were distant.

"What does Gabriel think?" Sam asked. Cas gave him a rueful glance.

"That I'm on the wrong track. That it's misdirection, nothing more."


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lighter episode after the last two - there is pie and drunkenness.

Dean slung the pizza boxes onto the library table. "Go wild," he advised Sam and Gabriel and ambled off to the kitchen for a beer. Cas was already there holding a ceramic jar and muttering under his breath.

"Cas? You uh, planning on some baking?" The angel looked up irritably.

"No. This was my uh…" he looked embarrassed. "I kept some chocolate in here, hidden. Gabriel found it. So, of course now it's empty." Dean gave him a bemused smile.

"You're a secret chocolate fiend?" Cas flushed.

"Not specifically, but like my brother, I have a preference for sweet things," he explained. Dean's smile widened.

"Well, I can help you there." He lifted the plastic bag in his hand. "I have pie. Let's go get some pizza, and then we can have this."

* * *

When Dean and Cas entered the library, Sam and Gabriel had apparently taken a selection of pizza slices and disappeared somewhere else to eat them. Dean found himself surprisingly at ease with just Cas for company. No doubt, there was some damage control still to be done, but the alternative was unthinkable. They had to fix things, no matter how long it took because Dean wasn't sure he could live without Cas in his life. When he'd thought Cas had been destroyed by the Leviathan, or when he'd left him behind in Purgatory, Dean had almost felt like he wanted to die. He'd survived, Sam still needed him, but the pain of coming to terms with his loss had been excruciating. Miraculously, Cas had been returned to him both times. But one day, their luck would run out. He reached out and snagged a piece of pepperoni pizza.

Cas picked at his slice, Dean suspected that the angel was only eating to be polite. He got up and got a fresh beer and the pie from the kitchen.

"Now, this here is a modern twist on an American classic, the apple pie." he said seriously to the angel. Cas focused his attention on him in that way that made him feel like the center of the universe. "This is a caramel apple pie with a graham cracker crust." He cut a slice and slid it onto a small plate, then dug his fork into the pie and offered the piece to the angel. Cas leaned forward, and Dean fed the pie into his mouth, Cas' eyes closing as he concentrated on the flavors. When his eyes opened again, his expression was rapturous. Dean swallowed. They were drifting towards the part of the map labeled 'Here be Dragons' once again. But he could handle it, he just needed to stay in control of the situation. He dug the fork into the pie again and lifted this piece to his own mouth. The angel's reaction was understandable, this pie was unbelievably good. When he opened his eyes again, Cas was open-mouthed and staring. He shifted uncomfortably, but forced himself to relax. This was Cas, he was safe.

* * *

Gabriel grabbed the cinnamon bourbon Dean had procured for him and refilled Sam's glass. Sam's brother wasn't his biggest fan and he had been surprised when Dean had acquiesced to his request. Sam swayed slightly.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" he asked, squinting suspiciously. Gabriel laughed immoderately.

"Us, Sammy, us. I'm as susceptible to this stuff as you are when my Grace is this low. Maybe more." He threw his head back, and tried not to topple off the bed. Sam giggled.

"This is probably a terrible idea." he pointed out. Gabriel gave in to gravity and slid onto the floor.

"Yep! But y'know, iss kinda awesome." Sam stared down at him.

"You're a cheap drunk?" Gabriel scratched his head.

"Humans… uh get used to it. Me, nossomuch. Archangel, see?" Sam blinked owlishly.

"Huh?" he blurted. Gabriel pulled himself back onto the bed.

"Never mind. Now, kiss me." He tilted forward, and Sam met him halfway. The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, a little lazy but still hot as Hell. He tugged at Gabriel's shirt, the archangel was wearing far too many clothes. Gabriel was happy to comply.

"You're a secret nudist," Sam accused laughingly.

"Nothin' secret 'bout it, Sammy-boy. Nekkidness is like-" Gabriel broke off, looking puzzled. "I dunno. Somethin' awesome." This was too funny, Sam thought. Gabriel had started slowly mouthing at his neck, no teeth, just lips and tongue slowly driving him insane. He dragged in a stuttering breath.

" _Gabriel..._ " he breathed. "Oh, God. Gabriel…" The archangel huffed a breath against his skin and lifted his head with an impish grin. Sam swallowed the last of his drink and held out his glass again.

"This stuff is amazing," Sam declared. Gabriel looked serious for a moment.

"Hey, din't Dean say he was gettin' pie?" Sam nodded.

"You know it. Want some?" Gabriel beamed. "Let's go find it."

* * *

Gabriel weaved down the hall after Sam. Cinnamon bourbon, what an invention! Sam shot him an amused glance. Gabriel ignored him, he hadn't been drunk in several hundred years at least, he was going to enjoy it.

There was no sign of any pie in the kitchen, so they went on the hunt for Dean. They found him with Castiel in the library. Dean was feeding pie to the angel, the moment intimate and comfortable. Sam rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey, you keep any of that for us?" he asked. His brother and Cas both jumped, and stared at him wide-eyed, like he'd caught them doing something illicit. Sam kept his face straight, despite the urge to grin like an idiot at them.

"Sure," Dean said slowly. "Knock yourself out." Sam cut a generous portion from the pie on the table and dragged a swaying Gabriel out of the room.

Cas watched his brother with amazement as Sam and Gabriel meandered out of the room with their prize.

"Are they...drunk?" the angel asked cautiously. Dean leaned back in his chair.

"Gabriel asked me to pick up some cinnamon bourbon while I was out getting dinner. So, probably, yes," he told the angel. Cas gave Dean a shy glance.

"And you did it. My brother asked you for a favor, and you did what he asked?" he asked. Dean shrugged.

"We made their lives Hell yesterday. Seemed only fair." he offered by way of explanation. Cas flushed. "C'mon, let's go watch some TV." He extended a hand to the angel, who, after a moment's hesitation, grasped it firmly and hauled himself to his feet.

Cas sprawled on the couch, watching Dean as he scanned the offerings on the Netflix menu.

"Anything you fancy?" he asked nonchalantly. Cas shrugged.

"Did they make any more of The Wire after season five ?" he asked. Dean shook his head.

"Sorry, man. No, that was the last one." The angel pouted. Dean was seized with the urge to bite the protruding lip.  _Dammit_. Cas looked up at him and Dean's breath caught.  _Still off the reservation,_  he thought. Dean was assailed by the memory of the kiss in the kitchen, before he'd freaked out and ruined it. He swallowed.

"You know what, forget this," he said. "Let me expand your education in another way." Cas started and he gave him a grin, before dragging the angel off to his room. When they reached his door, Cas began to resist.

"What are you doing, Dean?" he asked, alarmed. Dean opened the door and pulled the angel inside. He sorted through his CDs and selected one with a smile. Loading it into the CD player, he unplugged the headphones and pressed the play button. The first chords of Good Times Bad Times began to play.

"Now, listen. This is Led Zeppelin's first album, released in 1969…"

* * *

_Sammy…_

"No…" Sam breathed. He was in a forest. He could smell loamy earth and damp wood, hear birdsong and insects chirping. He looked around frantically. Lucifer could come from any direction. He saw a log cabin ahead and began to walk towards it, almost unwillingly. He pushed open the door. Inside the room was filled with handmade wooden furniture, handwoven rugs and Native American crafts. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, a gentle smile on his face.

"Hey Sam," he gestured around him. "What do you think?" Sam sagged with relief. It was only Gabriel. He was safe. He looked around.

"Very uh...rustic." Gabriel patted the seat next to him and Sam wandered over, inspecting a few carved animals on the way. He sat down and Gabriel flashed him a triumphant smile.

"It's a little hideaway I made. I've never brought anyone here before. I'm glad you like it." Gabriel stroked his fingers along Sam's jaw and Sam closed his eyes. He leaned back and Gabriel climbed into his lap.

"Are you sure we should do this, Gabriel?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.

"I told you, it's a hideaway. We're safe here, nobody can reach us. I have so much to show you, Sam." Gabriel nuzzled at his neck, and Sam quivered in anticipation of his teeth. But they never came, instead Gabriel finger-snapped away his shirt and began to lick and suck his way down Sam's chest. He carefully avoided the Grace anchor mark on his way to Sam's nipple. Sam groaned. He thrust his hands into Gabriel's hair and tried to tug him up towards his mouth. Gabriel resisted, his eyes snapping with anger and shoved Sam backwards against the back of the couch. Sam gulped, his arousal ebbing. When Gabriel's mouth latched onto his nipple again, he flinched and shoved the archangel away.

"Stop, Gabriel. This isn't working for me." Sam said firmly. Gabriel's head came up and his eyes were flashing with temper.

"Why not?" he demanded. "So far, you've debased yourself like a common slut at the slightest touch."

Sam gasped at Gabriel's cruel tone. "That's not true!" he protested. Gabriel stood, looking down on Sam, contempt flickering across his face. "You're a tease. A fucking whiny little cocktease." Sam began to feel uneasy.

"Gabriel…" The archangel turned away. Sam stared at his rigid back, and swallowed. He stood up and reached for Gabriel's shoulder when he realized something. He drew in a breath. "You're not Gabriel."

Gabriel turned and his form morphed into Lucifer's before Sam's eyes. Lucifer's face was cold and taut with anger.

"Little bitch." he snarled. "You're mine, Sam. Don't forget that."

Sam yelped and tumbled out of bed.

* * *

Gabriel was holding him, rocking him gently back and forth, crooning something unintelligible in his ear. Sam couldn't relax, his body stiff and his insides cold.

"Gabriel...he...he was you but not you…" he whispered. Gabriel gritted his teeth but kept rocking. Sam tucked his head into Gabriel's neck and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of the archangel washed over him. How had he not noticed that the Gabriel in his dream had smelled all wrong, like waterfalls and cold, crisp mountain air? He nuzzled in closer and nibbled at Gabriel's neck. One of the archangel's hands cupped the back of his head.

"Take what you need, Sam." He didn't have to be asked twice. He bit down hard on Gabriel's neck, and thrilled at the groan forced from the archangel's throat. He sucked at the wound he'd opened up, the taste of Gabriel's blood flooding his mouth.  _This was what he needed, what he wanted._  He lifted his head, drunk on the taste of Gabriel and gasped. He looked at the archangel, his head lolling back against the side of the bed, his gaze heavy-lidded and drugged on sensation.

"Sammy...I need…" Sam didn't hesitate. He leaned forward, tilting his head away to bare his throat to Gabriel. The archangel shivered and grazed his teeth down Sam's neck. Sam felt a slight sting, and then the warmth of Gabriel's mouth as he sucked down hard. Desire crackled across his nerve-endings, his breathing hitched and his heart began to race.

Gabriel lifted his head and tugged Sam in for a long, lingering kiss. The taste of his own blood, coppery and bright on Gabriel's tongue should have been unpleasant but somehow it wasn't. Sam ached with want, panting and desperate. Gabriel pulled back.

"Sam…" Sam groaned in frustration. "I'm sorry Sam. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"I don't care, Gabriel. Fuck Lucifer, I want this. Want you." His chest heaved. Gabriel stroked his hands down Sam's back.

"I know. I know." Gabriel sighed. "Perhaps I should have slept somewhere else." Sam shook his head.

"No. I'm OK. Frustrated, but OK. I'm glad you're here. Imagine what dealing with these dreams would be like on my own." He dragged them both back onto the bed and tucked Gabriel against his side.

* * *

Cas was in a kind of exquisite agony. Dean had switched one Led Zeppelin CD for another; the fourth album, he'd explained. They'd sat on the bed, side by side, leaning against the headboard, Dean singing along or pointing out intricacies of the music Cas barely understood. Something about twelve-bar blues, terraced dynamics and other terms that were like a foreign language that the angel didn't speak. But now, Dean had fallen asleep, his head resting on Cas' shoulder. He'd shifted his arm to tuck the hunter into his body, which had almost certainly been a bad idea, because now Dean was curled into him and breathing hot air against his neck.

The track playing was a slow, syrupy blues number with a harmonica and a strange tone to the guitars that was sort of hypnotic. The vocalist was singing about rain, and Cas found himself strangely entranced. Dean shifted, his nose nudging against the cords of his neck and he shivered. He tried to gently lift Dean away, but the hunter had clung on even tighter. Cas sighed. He could probably use his Grace to get out of this tangle, and he knew that's what he ought to do. But the feel of Dean wrapped around him was irresistible. This was not going to end well.

He couldn't have been more wrong. The rain song had finished and apparently it was the last one on the CD. The silence roused Dean and he looked up sleepily from Cas' shoulder. The angel held his breath, but Dean just gave him a soft, drowsy smile.

"Sorry, man. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you." he mumbled. "CD's finished?"

"Yes," Cas said, his voice thick. "I would have left you to sleep but I didn't want to wake you up so I could move." Dean still hadn't shifted from his position against the angel's body and Cas warred with himself over how to proceed. "I'll let you rest now." He started to pull away and was startled when Dean held on.

"You don't have to go," Dean told him. Cas eyed him uncertainly.

"I-," the angel faltered. "I will only disturb you." He wriggled out from under Dean's weight and the hunter reluctantly let him go.

"G'night, Cas." he muttered and closed his eyes. Cas slipped silently out of the room.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam finally finds out how Gabriel placed his Grace anchor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos. You guys rock!

Sam followed the enticing scent of bacon to find Dean, alert and cheerful as he cooked breakfast. Cas was leaning against the fridge, looking relatively content given the recent drama. Sam prayed it would last, but did not hold out much hope. He poured himself some coffee and sipped it appreciatively. Dean nodded to him and began dishing up the bacon and eggs onto plates Cas had spread on the counter.

"Is Gabriel coming?" Dean asked as he scooped the out the last egg from the skillet.

"No, it's just the way I'm standing," the archangel said roguishly from the doorway. Sam rolled his eyes. He grabbed a plate and settled down at the table. Dean ditched the skillet into the sink and then carried his plate over to the table. Gabriel lounged in his chair next to Sam, who offered him a piece of bacon. The archangel declined with a grimace.

"So, we've got some more reports from Maryland, no giant bugs but a spot in a parking lot where cars kept catching fire and a house in DC that fell into a sinkhole. Killed four people asleep in their beds. That happens from time to time in some parts of the country but I've never heard of it happening in this part of the District before." Sam told them. "I added the incidents to the map. They both correspond perfectly with the sigil Gabriel drew."

"I've been thinking. I believe we have been looking at this all wrong," Cas stated, a pensive look on his face. "We've been focusing on Metatron, because he was the instigator of so much that has happened. But to place the sigil you found, centered exactly on the warehouse where Gabriel was imprisoned, perhaps Gadreel is the one responsible. He was the one handling the arrangements for renting the warehouse." Gabriel laughed.

"Gadreel? That sniveling moron as evil mastermind?" Nobody else shared his amusement.

"You know, you might be onto something." Sam said, chewing thoughtfully. "Gadreel was the one who let Lucifer into Eden, right? He claimed he was tricked. But what if he wasn't? What if he was on Lucifer's side this whole time?" He swallowed as Gabriel's merriment died.

"Son of a bitch…" Dean breathed. "No wonder he wanted to possess you, Sam. He must have been hoping he could find the key to the Cage."

"So why didn't he take it?" Gabriel asked.

"It's not here." Sam and Dean both answered. The archangel's gaze flitted between them.

"So where is it?" he asked. Sam exchanged a look with his brother, and shrugged.

"Someplace safe. Actually places, plural. We split the key back into the four rings, stored each one in safe deposit boxes in different parts of the country." Gabriel looked impressed.

"That's actually pretty smart," he commented. Sam preened at the praise, Dean rolled his eyes. "But if Gadreel had access to your memories, I don't see how that would help." Sam's grin widened.

"That's the best bit. I know where two of the boxes are, but I don't know where those keys are. Dean and I took two rings each and split up. Then we exchanged keys and hid them from each other. We figured it was safer that way." If Gabriel had looked impressed before, now he looked amazed.

"Gadreel must have been spitting tacks!" He laughed. "No doubt he was working on getting that information out of Dean, but never got the chance."

"So all of this is about freeing Lucifer again?" Cas interjected. "Do you think Gadreel was hoping to restart the Apocalypse too?" Dean groaned and tugged at his hair.

"Not again!" he complained. "But Gadreel's dead. If, and it's a big if,  _if_ he was responsible for the sigil, he failed. The devil's still way down in the hole." He flashed a grin at Cas who actually laughed. Gabriel looked confused.

"OK, so what should we do about the sigil?" Sam asked. "It's not safe to leave it in place, mutating the local wildlife and setting random things on fire, not to mention the other effects."

"Castiel and I will work on figuring out how to undo it," Gabriel said. "But I think dealing with Luci's Grace takes precedence." Dean's face fell and he stared meaningfully at Sam.

"You had another visit, I take it?" Sam gave a short nod. He didn't really want to describe the encounter, and Dean took the hint. "Then we go and shake a few answers out of Metatron."

* * *

Dean watched Cas from the doorway to the library, the angel was buried in a small, very old book that looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Cas delicately turned the pages, his hands steady and sure. Dean shoved his own hands in his pockets and fought for command of himself. He sauntered over and leaned over the angel, telling himself he was curious about what the angel was reading. But instead of looking at the book, he found himself dragging his gaze over Cas' face and down his neck slowly and deliberately. Cas looked up and his breathing stuttered, his lips parted and Dean Winchester could not refuse such a pretty invitation.

A theatrical cough made him turn his head with a snarl. Gabriel was leaning against the wall, smirking. "Are we going to hit the road or are you just gonna hit that?" Gabriel snickered. Sam appeared behind him, threw a startled look at his brother and Cas before giving Gabriel a shove.

"Behave yourself, Gabriel." He looked at Dean, who was still crowding Cas, the angel's head was tilted back to expose his throat and his eyes heavy-lidded. "Uh. How many cars are we taking? Two?"

"We can hardly make out in the back seat if you're driving, Sammy," Gabriel pouted.

"One, we're taking one car. Two, there will be no making out, touching or hanky-panky of any kind. Do I make myself clear?" Dean's voice brooked no argument. Sam sighed. It was going to be a long drive.

* * *

Dean initially insisted that Sam sit in front and the two angels in the back but Sam shook his head.

"I need to talk to Gabriel about this Grace anchor, and I can't do that constantly craning my neck around. Cas can sit up front with you." He thought his brother would argue, but at Cas' earnest delight at the prospect of riding shotgun, he gave a quick nod and climbed into the car. Once ensconced on the backseat, Gabriel had stretched out and laid his head in Sam's lap, a gentle smile playing about his lips. Sam threaded his fingers through Gabriel's hair and breathed in a sense of genuine happiness.

"Hey!" Dean yelled. "What did I say about messing around in the back?" His eyes met Sam's in the rearview mirror.

"We're not doing anything, leave us alone." Sam retorted. He looked down at Gabriel, whose eyes had drifted closed.

"Hey, no sleeping. You promised you'd tell me about how you put this Grace anchor in me." He prodded Gabriel in the shoulder for emphasis. The archangel pouted and Sam resisted the urge to lean down and kiss the petulant look off his face. "I get the feeling you don't want to tell me. That's not making me feel very good about this, Gabriel." The archangel's eyes popped open.

"All right. Promise me you're not going to make a big deal out of this." he said. Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"No promises. Talk."

"Fine. Like I say, it was no big deal."

"Tell the truth, Gabriel." Castiel's voice rumbled from the front seat.  _Damn celestial hearing._  Gabriel sighed.

"So, not long after you released Lucifer from his Cage, you and Dean kinda went your separate ways for a bit." he started. Sam's forehead creased in remembrance. "You were working in a bar as the world's most implausible busboy. I visited you in your motel room one night." Sam gaped at him.

"I don't remember that!" he gasped. Gabriel shrugged.

"Well, no, you don't. I'll get to that in a moment. Point is, Castiel had carved all those symbols on your ribs so you were totally off the grid. Nobody knew where you were, not Heaven or Hell. Both sides had put out major operations to find you, kicked over a few of my pagan buddies while they were at it.

"I knew Bobby Singer would know where you were though. So, really it wasn't terribly hard to find you, if you're capable of thinking like a human instead of like an angel or a demon. I hung around Bobby's for a few days, until I overheard you talking to him on the phone. Simple. So I came to find you." Gabriel reached up, and touched two fingers to Sam's head.

* * *

Sam reveled in the heat of the shower - it had been a long busy shift and his entire body had smelled of grease and stale beer. He took his time washing and conditioning his hair, scrubbing his body clean and letting the water drum down on the sore muscles in his back. He was really too tall for a job that required so much bending. Finally, the water began to run cold and he turned it off with a sigh. He dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his head, before heading into the bedroom. A loud wolf-whistle made him jump and he started at the sight of the Trickster lounging on his bed, and staring appreciatively at Sam's body. His eyes wide, Sam snatched the towel off his head, and wrapped it around his waist instead. The Trickster pouted.

"You're no fun," he declared.

"What are you doing here?" Sam demanded. "If you were hoping to ice Dean a few more times for kicks and giggles, you're out of luck. My brother's not here."

"I know," the Trickster said, grinning. "You are one tricky human to find, let me tell you. Everyone's up in arms looking for you. But I'm the one who found you." He unwrapped a lollipop and jammed it in his mouth.

"So what do you want? I hope you're not planning to blackmail me," Sam growled.

" _Moi_?" the Trickster said, affronted. "Would I stoop so low?"

"Yes," Sam said. The demigod shrugged.

"You're probably right. But not this time, Sammy-boy." He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth with an obscene pop. Sam swallowed. They'd tangled with this creature twice, and both times he'd bested them. Sam certainly wasn't going to underestimate him now. But the flirting and the teasing smile on the Trickster's face was not making it easy. "So, to business. I had to go to a lot of trouble to find you Sammy. That's a problem we need to solve. I gotta keeps tabs on you, kiddo." Sam recoiled.

"Why? And why should I make it easy for you?" The Trickster licked the lollipop in a manner so pornographic, Sam thought he might swallow his tongue.

"Big things are coming. You popped Lucifer out his Cage, it's the final countdown. I did warn you. I told you where your path was gonna lead but you. Just. Wouldn't. Listen." The Trickster emphasized his point by jabbing the lollipop in Sam's direction. Sam's face crumpled. The Trickster was right, he had tried to warn Sam, had tried to teach him that lesson in his own idiosyncratic way.  _Dammit, he did not want to cry in front of this creature._  He blinked rapidly as the Trickster clicked his fingers and materialized Sam on the bed next to him. The demigod lay back, propping his head on one arm and looked at Sam, his face soft and sad.

"I'm sorry, kid, I really am. I don't like this any more than you do, but once started it can't be stopped. Soon it'll be showtime, and you're gonna need to be ready." He slipped his fingers into Sam's hair, massaging his scalp and Sam surrendered to the sensation despite himself.  _I must be out of my mind._

"What does that mean?" he stammered. The Trickster leaned closer, his lips almost brushing Sam's ear.

"Somebody's gonna ask you a question soon, Sammy. You're gonna want to say no. Don't. Don't fight it. Say yes. Say yes, and this can all be over." Sam shivered.

"To you?"

The Trickster pulled back, grinning. "Sorry, Sam. Not to me. At least, not for that. But you can say yes to me for something else." His gaze turned heavy, seductive. "Let me keep tabs on you, like I asked. Maybe I'll visit with you, once or twice before the end, we can have some fun together."

"I don't even know what I'm being asked to do." Sam breathed.

"It's simple. I lodge a tiny piece of my power inside you, and then I'll always know where you are. And what you're feeling." The Trickster's voice was husky and Sam wavered.

"What do I get out of this deal?" he whispered, edging closer to the demigod, breathing in his scent that was like honey, cinnamon and sunshine. The Trickster tilted towards him, lips hovering over Sam's mouth.

"A powerful pagan god watching over you. And, a little boost to your own willpower when you need it. Help you stave off those demon blood cravings for example." Sam started and began to retreat but the Trickster's gaze held him in place. His eyes were almost glowing and Sam realized he was horribly out of his depth. And ridiculously turned-on. He shouldn't do this, he should jump off the bed and run or cry for help or something, but instead he licked his lips.

"OK…" he mumbled. The Trickster dipped his head and pressed his mouth to Sam's lips. Sam opened his mouth to the demigod, and moaned as his tongue swept inside. The Trickster kissed him, deep and sensual and in that moment, Sam would have given him anything he asked. He tilted his head back, offering up his throat like a sacrifice. The Trickster slid his hand up Sam's neck, stroking his thumb across Sam's adam's apple, then held Sam firmly in place as his he moved his mouth away from Sam's lips and down his neck. A sudden flash of pain made Sam jump, then the demigod was licking at his throat and whispering in some foreign language. Sam's head fell to one side and he felt the Trickster's hand on the back of his skull, guiding him forward until he was tucked against the demigod's neck.

Somehow, he knew what was expected of him. He worried at a patch of skin with his teeth then bit down hard, the Trickster's breathing hitching for a moment. Sam suckled at the wound, the coppery tang of blood in his mouth and his senses were alight. Drinking demon blood was disgusting, even if the resulting power rush felt amazing. But this, this tasted like lightning and chaos and starlight. He pulled back, gasping air into his lungs and found himself gazing once more into the Trickster's eyes.

"Are you ready for this, Sam?" the Trickster asked.

"Yes." he replied. "Yes." The demigod pushed Sam until he was flat on his back and placed one hand on his chest, just below his anti-possession tattoo. The Trickster was muttering in the strange language again. Sam felt a strange kind of pressure, and for a moment it was hard to breathe. Then it was gone. He sat up and stared at the Trickster, who was panting hard.

"Is that it?" The demigod gave a pained smile.

"That's it."

"I don't feel any different." Sam observed. He gazed at the Trickster, his arousal still beating a rhythm beneath his skin. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward. The Trickster's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Woah, there, Sammy. What do you think you're doing?" Sam gave him a sultry look.

"Kissing you," he breathed. The Trickster shuddered.

"We really shouldn't, Sammy. I'm already…" he broke off as Sam brought their mouths together. This time it was even more electric, Sam's nerve endings seemed to tingle and his breathing became rapid and shallow. He tugged at the Trickster's clothes, wanting the touch of more skin. The demigod let him slide his hands under his shirt and press their bodies together for a moment, rocking his towel wrapped hips against the Trickster's denim-clad ones. He thrust his hands up into the Trickster's hair and trailed kisses down his neck. There was a finger-click and suddenly he was grasping empty air. He looked around to see the Trickster leaning against the door, breathing hard, his gaze hot and his hands clenched.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I let that get out of control." The demigod swallowed. "I think perhaps you should forget this little episode."

"Why?" Sam demanded. "Why can't we…" The Trickster made an impatient gesture and Sam could no longer speak.

"Because I said so, Sammy," the Trickster said with a quelling look. He clicked his fingers.

* * *

Sam started suddenly, disoriented as his consciousness was thrown back to the present. He stared down at Gabriel, his face etched in horror.

"You...you…" He tilted his head back against the seat. "Oh my God."

"You all right back there, Sam?" Dean barked.

"He's fine," Gabriel drawled. "Just a little disoriented from the memory I returned to him."

Sam shifted and pushed the archangel off his lap. "You seduced me," he said bluntly.

"I think you'll find  _I_  resisted having sex with  _you_ that night," Gabriel replied indignantly.

"Oh God, make them stop Cas!" Dean yelled. Cas leaned over and whispered something in Dean's ear. Sam couldn't hear what it was but the way Dean almost swerved off the road, it must have been good. Hopefully the angel could keep his brother distracted for a few more minutes - although not so much that he crashed the car.

"Give me a break. You know damn well what you did. You left an awful lot out when you asked me to accept what I now know to be a Grace anchor. You tricked me."

"I  _was_ a Trickster." Gabriel pointed out. "Seriously, Sam, why do you think I didn't want to sleep with you? It wasn't because I didn't want you. It was because you didn't know who I really was, and I couldn't tell you and risk blowing my cover." Sam seethed.

"Oh but you were happy to lead me on, to the point where I would've given you anything you asked for. Said yes to anything you wanted me to. Anything at all." Sam said bitterly. Gabriel looked down, away from Sam's accusing glare. When he looked up again, his eyes were flashing.

"It's always someone else's fault. Me, Ruby, your father, your brother, Castiel, even Jessica." Sam sucked in a breath.

"Don't you dare bring Jess into this!"

"Why not? You used her death as an excuse. You use the people in your life as excuses for your behavior, your choices. Yes, I flirted with you, kissed you. You could have pushed me away, said no. But you didn't, you responded. You said yes when I asked if I could place the anchor. Nobody made you do that. You did that. You wanted to." He sat back with a huff. Sam was silent. He breathed, in and out, in and out.

"You're right." Sam said, after a while. "I do use other people as the excuse for the mistakes I make. You lied to me back then, and I am angry about it. But I should have known better. We'd already had two encounters with you, I knew what you were," he hesitated. "Well, what I thought you were." He sighed heavily. "We'll see what we can do to get rid of this piece of Lucifer's Grace in my soul. I'm going to need your help with that. You owe me that much. But afterwards, I want you gone. I don't want to see you again."

"Sam…" Gabriel began but Sam held up his hand.

"Enough, Gabriel. Just...enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers, you'll be glad to hear I've finished drafting this story, Part One of the Gracelight series. I totally NaNoWriMo'd this sucker! :-) 
> 
> I still need to revise and polish, find all the places where the grammar's borked or the flow of dialog is difficult to follow who is talking (my early drafts suffer from this a lot). But I should be updating fairly regularly for the next few weeks. After that I'm undertaking a substantial interstate move, so I'm hoping to get A Spoonful of Sugar completed before I go. 
> 
> I've already started sketching out Part Two, Bitter Medicine. Once I'm settled in my new home city, I'll try and start posting the early chapters.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean talks to Sam about his fight with Gabriel

Castiel had been monitoring the conversation in the backseat and frowned at Sam's declaration, that he wanted Gabriel out of his life once they solved the problem with his soul. "Dean, why don't we stop for something to eat?" Dean looked down at the fuel gauge and then nodded.

"Yeah, I'll need to fill her up soon anyway. There's a diner next to a gas station about five miles down this road, food's not bad." He flicked a glance up to the rearview mirror. Sam was sitting hunched against the door, staring out of the window. Gabriel was curled against the opposite door, his head down and his shoulders heaving. Dean looked at Cas in alarm.  _Was Gabriel crying?_

Once Dean had pulled into the diner's parking lot, he got out of the car and walked around to Sam's door. He yanked the door open and hauled his brother out single-handedly and dragged him off to the diner. Castiel waited until Dean had pushed his brother inside and then turned towards Gabriel in the back seat.

"Gabriel," he said softly. The archangel looked up, his eyes and nose red and his face wet. "I'm sorry, Gabriel." The archangel snuffled. "Sam's touchy about his autonomy. With good reason. You should have told him the truth." Gabriel stared at his brother.

"I did tell him the truth. I gave him the whole memory, held nothing back. I could have. I could have erased the parts that were less than flattering about my behavior that night."

"You misunderstand. You should have told him the truth about why you placed the Grace anchor. Why you worked so hard to convince him to accept it." Gabriel rolled his shoulders miserably. "He wasn't going to listen."

"You fall in love with a Winchester, that comes with the territory." Castiel said ruefully. Gabriel blinked. "You didn't think I knew? I'm not blind, brother. I've known for a very long time. I saw how you looked at Sam when you trapped them in your silly TV game."

"You never said." Castiel frowned.

"What would have been the point? If you had lived, then maybe I might have brought it up with you. But you died. So I let it lie. It would only have hurt Sam if I'd told him, he was utterly distraught by your death as it was. Dean...Dean is strange. I had serious concerns about Sam's mental health after your death and Dean just didn't seem to see it. I suppose he was more concerned with the Apocalypse."

"He was distraught?" Gabriel asked, amazed. Castiel nodded.

"I thought perhaps he felt responsible. You have to understand, Lucifer was whispering in his head almost constantly by that point. Day and night, awake or asleep, he got no respite. So he was vulnerable and you know our brother would have twisted that knife as hard as he could. So you're right, Sam does blame the people in his life for the things he does. But sometimes, he has good reason. People have been taking away his choices from day one; Azazel, his father, Lucifer, even Dean from time to time. Many of them people who loved him, or professed to love him. And now he's falling in love with you and you're so much more powerful than he is and he's scared."

"Well, don't I feel like a fucking idiot." Gabriel snarled.

* * *

Dean herded Sam into a booth and ordered coffee. He shoved the menu at Sam, who pushed it back.

"I'm not hungry, Dean."

"Tough. You're going to eat. Pick something, or I will." Sam grabbed the menu sullenly and stared at it unseeing. The waitress sashayed over and graced Dean with a cheeky smile.

"What can I get ya?" She flicked her dyed blonde hair and leaned forward to give Dean a good look at her cleavage. He plastered on a fake grin, and turned his attention to the menu.

"Is the ah, Wylie burger good?" he asked.

"Sure is! Named after our owner, Mr Wylie, it has cheddar cheese, bacon, onion rings, barbecue sauce,and potato chips. His very own invention!" It didn't sound all that original to Dean, but whatever.

"OK, I'll take that, with fries and uh, you got any pie?"

"We sure do! Mr Wylie says that his combination fruit pies are the best in seven counties. We have apple and blackberry, cherry and pear, blueberry and orange or peach and pineapple?"

"I'll take one slice of each, to go. Sam?"

"I'll have the Asian chicken salad, dressing on the side." Sam muttered. The waitress bounded off.

"All right, Sam. Spill it. You and Gabriel have had a stand-up, knockdown fight, and let me make it clear, I am in no way a fan of the guy. But that was pretty brutal, Sam. Are you sure you want to cut him off like that?" Sam's shoulders slumped.

"No." he whined. "But dammit, Dean, he shouldn't have done that. He may not have slept with me that night, big whoop. But he set me up for the Grace anchor, made it so that it was almost impossible for me to say no to him."

"I'm not saying don't be mad." Dean sympathized. "Hell, I'm mad. I'm just saying, you've forgiven him for worse. What's different this time?"

" _I_  am, I guess." Sam looked up at his brother. "I think I'm falling in love with him." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course you are." Dean said tiredly. "In that case, shouldn't it make it easier to forgive him?"

"You'd think so, right? But with this piece of Lucifer's Grace in my soul, who knows if we can even be together?" Dean snorted.

"So you push him away, rather than take a chance. Wow. You really are like Dad sometimes, y'know." Sam ducked his head. The waitress chose that moment to appear with their food, and her number on a napkin for Dean. He glanced at it irritably and then shoved it away from him.

"Eat, Sam." Dean instructed. "Then we fix the unholy mess you just made."

* * *

By the time, Sam and Dean appeared about forty minutes later, Gabriel had lapsed back into despair. Castiel jumped out of the car and made a beeline for Sam, grabbing him by the collar and snarling into his face.

"My powerful, beautiful archangel brother is utterly  _broken_. By you.  _Fix it_." Dean stepped between his brother and his angel.

"Hey, woah there Cas. Settle down. Sam's an idiot. We're all on board with that. Come get some pie with me, and let those two knuckleheads sort themselves out. He brandished the plastic container and dragged Cas over to sit on the hood of the car.

Sam slouched over to the Impala. Dean was feeding pie to Cas with a plastic fork, making him close his eyes and guess the flavor. They were giggling, unusual behavior for either of them, and Sam watched them wistfully for a moment. Then he took a few deep breaths and climbed into the backseat. Gabriel was staring out the window. His face was pale, his eyes and nose were red.

"Hey." Sam said, stupidly. "Uh." He cleared his throat and tried again."Uh, Gabriel." The archangel leaned his head forward against the glass.

"Right, so. Well. Here's the thing. Uh." Sam broke off. "OK. I'm pissed, Gabriel. Really, really pissed. But uh, I may have overreacted. A bit. OK, a lot. You had your reasons, and we can argue about those later but you were right. I made my own choices that night. Including one choice that you unmade for me, because you knew it was a bad one. And...I'm grateful. I said some things I didn't mean. I...don't want you to leave. Not ever. Not ever again. And I don't know if we can have that, because this piece of Lucifer's Grace in my soul might not be something we can fix. I might have to…" he took a deep breath. "We might have to accept that maybe I belong to Lucifer, whether I want to or not." Gabriel had turned to face him during this speech, his face carefully blank. But then his expression became fierce.

"I will fight for you Sammy. Luci can't have you. I was here first." Sam gave him a quelling look. "OK, fine. That doesn't give me the right. But your choice does. If you choose me, that is." Sam smiled at him.

"We'll see." He gave the archangel a sidelong glance. "Wanna try and liberate some pie before Dean feeds it all to Cas?"

* * *

The atmosphere in the car was calm and relatively content. Cas was leaning against the car window, watching Dean with a smile on his face. Gabriel had taken up his place on Sam's lap again, with Sam carding his fingers through the silky strands of his hair. It was late and Dean was starting to droop slightly.

"Do you want me to drive for a while?" Sam asked. Dean threw a look over his shoulder.

"If you want. Or we can stop and catch a few hours sleep." Gabriel's eyes opened at that and he grinned at Sam.

"I vote for Plan B," he said. Sam shrugged.

"Sure, we can stop. Sounds good actually," he said an enormous yawn cracking his jaw.

"Two rooms." Cas said firmly. Dean looked at him.

"Uhh, Cas you don't sleep and two rooms is…" Cas cut him off.

"Two rooms." Dean gulped and looked at Sam again. Sam kept his face carefully blank.

The motel clerk was bored and chatty, but finally handed over the two sets of room keys. Dean reached out his hand to take them but Cas beat him to it, snatching them away and handing one set to Sam. Dean stared at him with a look that Sam had rarely seen on his brother's face. Dean was nervous. He patted his brother on the shoulder.

"You OK?" he asked. Dean swallowed.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm uh, I'm good. See you in the morning." Sam stared after him. Gabriel snickered at his elbow. He turned to face him.

"What did you do, Gabriel?" The archangel gave him an innocent look.

"Nothing, I swear," When Sam continued to look suspiciously at him, he spread his hands. "Well, not much."

" _Gabriel._ "

"All right, all right. I might have hinted. A little." Sam looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" Gabriel grinned.

"You and Dean think of Castiel as this sweet, gentle angel. He's a seraph. He was a garrison commander. He's used to giving orders, and having them obeyed. I told Dean, Castiel is going to top the Hell out of him, and he is going to love it." Sam shoved Gabriel with his shoulder.

"You're terrible," he laughed.

They stumbled into their room, giggling and snatching kisses. Sam staggered towards the bed, stiff from too many hours in the car. Gabriel tackled him from behind and threw him across the bed, before jumping on top of him and straddling his hips. He stripped Sam out of his shirt and began to knead his hands into the knotted muscles in Sam's back. Sam groaned, Gabriel's hands felt fantastic. The archangel leaned down and licked a stripe up Sam's spine and Sam arched and let out a gasp. Sam pushed up suddenly and flipped them over, tucking Gabriel neatly beneath him. He pinned Gabriel's hands above his head and gave him a searing kiss before licking and biting his way down the archangel's neck. He tugged off Gabriel's shirt and then with a wicked gleam in his eye, used it to tie Gabriel's hands together. It would not have been a serious binding even if Gabriel had been human but it gave him the illusion of power. He stripped off the rest of Gabriel's clothes, then sat back and surveyed the feast laid out before him. Gabriel writhed.

"Sammy…" Sam ignored him, and licked at the skin of his belly before trailing his tongue down the line of hair leading down from his belly button. The archangel arched under him, panting and gasping. Sam dipped his head still lower, and Gabriel shuddered.

"Sam, you're heading into dangerous territory, there." Sam looked up at him.

"Are you telling me to stop?" he said, blowing gently across Gabriel's skin. The archangel squirmed.

"Yes," he gasped. "You don't make it easy, but yes. You need to stop." Sam crawled back up Gabriel's body and kissed his mouth once more. Gabriel closed his eyes.

"You know I don't want to stop," Sam said. Gabriel shook his head. "I won't take the risk. Let's not give Luci any more openings than he already has to screw with you." He screwed his eyes tight for a moment. "You will be the death of me. Again." Sam rolled off him and sat on the edge of the bed. Gabriel snagged his t-shirt and put it back on, before coming up behind Sam and circling his arms around him.

"You have to trust me to know how far we can take this, Sam." Gabriel said. "If anything, I already let it go too far. You have a habit of doing that to me," he added ruefully.

"What a sorry lot we are," Sam commented. "We want to fall into bed with each other and go crazy but can't because the freaking devil has claimed first dibs on my soul. And my brother and Cas are still dancing around each other, afraid to push each other too far."

"I did try to help there at least." Gabriel said, mouthing at Sam's neck again.

"No you didn't! You tried to freak Dean out. And it worked." Gabriel's teeth grazed a sensitive spot and Sam shivered.

"That's what you think." Gabriel mumbled against his skin. "I was actually trying to nudge them along." Sam tilted his head back and groaned.

"How does that work?" Gabriel worried at Sam's neck with his teeth and there was a sharp sting as he broke the skin. Sam wheezed as Gabriel sucked at the wound.

"Dean's all jumpy, starts thinking about it, denies it interests him. But in truth, he likes the idea. The pressure builds, then boom." Sam huffed out a breath.

"You're like the world's worst cupid."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Gabriel said. Sam turned his head into Gabriel's neck and breathed in his scent.

"What is it with you and my blood anyway?" Sam asked lazily. Gabriel lifted his head.

"It's a pagan thing. Partly. And I'm kinda kinky. You want some of mine again?" Sam quivered.

"Yes." he breathed. He turned around and laid Gabriel back on the bed.

* * *

Cas herded Dean towards their room so rapidly, Dean began to get alarmed.

"Hey," he protested. "What's the big rush?" The angel sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at Dean, his face solemn.

"We need to give Sam and Gabriel some space," he explained. Dean sucked in a breath, he would not lose his temper, he would  _not_. Cas watched Dean's nostrils flare as he struggled to remain calm. But it was important that Dean understand and not try to block what was happening.

"So explain this to me," Dean demanded. "You don't want me to try and stop this...bonding, whatever...then tell me why!"

"Because it's too late." Cas said, sounding tired. "To stop this, you would have had to have prevented Gabriel placing the anchor in the first place." Dean reared back.

"Wait a second, you said that the anchor only affected the angel's feelings." he growled. The angel tilted his head.

"That's true. What's important is how Gabriel placed the anchor. You remember I explained that the ritual requires a blood exchange?" Dean nodded stiffly and a flush crept up the angel's neck. "There are two ways to achieve that. One way is to press together two freshly opened wounds." Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Like blood brothers?" he asked.

"Yes," Cas replied. "But the other way is for the angel and the prospective anchor to taste each other's blood. That's what Gabriel did." Dean went white, and Cas was concerned that he might pass out. He reached out as the older Winchester staggered and sank down onto the bed.

"When?" Dean whispered. "When did that asshole do this to my brother?"

"After Lucifer's release when you and Sam were spending time apart." Dean's head began to throb.  _This was his fault, this whole sorry mess._  If he'd stuck by his brother, Gabriel would have had no chance to do this to Sam. Barely able to speak, he managed to force his last question past his lips.

"What difference does it make?" Cas was silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully.

"Because placing the anchor that way resembles another ritual. The bonding ritual."


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Gabriel talk and Sam finds something out about his brother. Castiel and Dean talk, and Dean finds out something about his brother too.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Sam."

"The blood thing. I know I asked before and you said it was partly a pagan thing, and partly a personal kink, right?" Gabriel tensed.  _Oh shit._

"OK, out with it. You clearly didn't tell me the whole story." Gabriel was silent.  _Oh God, what is it? Shit, shit, shit._ Sam began to regret opening his mouth.

"It  _is_ a personal kink," Gabriel said at last. "And yeah, a lot of pagans are into bloodplay as part of sex. And magic too. But me and you? That's a little different. It's hard to explain."

"Try." Sam ground out.

"Well, first we come to the real reason I wanted to place my Grace anchor in you." Sam sucked in another breath,  _more lies?_  Gabriel held up his hand, "I'm not saying I didn't want to keep tabs on you. I did. I just didn't tell you everything." Sam reviewed the memory Gabriel had reopened in his mind.

"You're right - I didn't even notice, you had me so distracted." he realized. Gabriel gave a slow smile, full of wicked promise.

"I had no desire to get involved in the Apocalypse. The first time I met you, I knew who you were, what your destiny was. I should have just walked away, but I couldn't because you were like this adorable clumsy puppy. I made the mistake of taking a peek at your soul. I couldn't believe what I saw, how pure it was." Sam gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, after that I was hooked. I kept tabs on you, popped in from time to time just to see what you were up to. Maybe played a couple tricks on you too, not that you noticed. You ever wonder how the Ghostfacers got their start, when they were utterly clueless about how to handle real ghosts?" He shrugged with false modesty. "I might have had a little something to do with that. And that cursed coin that granted wishes?" he laughed. "Good times!"

"OK, fine. So you were stalking me, which is not at all weird and creepy, then Cas carves those symbols into our ribs and suddenly you can't play your game anymore."

"Somethin' like that. I had a plan - this planet was done. But you, Sam, you were worth saving." Sam shook his head.

"Saving? You were trying to get me to say yes to Lucifer! How was that going to save me?" Gabriel was dismissive.

"Lucifer's all set up to fight Michael, but for a battle like that you need resources. Human souls are power, I think you already know that. An angel in their True Vessel has the ability to connect to other humans, anywhere on the planet. They do that through a connection that only the True Vessel can make. Turns out, that ability is blocked by…" he mimed a drumroll.

"A Grace anchor from another angel." Sam breathed.

"Give the man a cigar! Yes, Sammy. So, I figure that if I block Luci's ability to literally suck down souls as he fights Michael, there's a chance that the battle will be short and the horror rained down on mankind would be limited." Sam contemplated Gabriel's explanation.

"What would have happened to me?" Gabriel gave a triumphant grin.

"Once the battle was underway, Luci would have been distracted. I figured I could use the anchor to guide your soul out, and we could ditch this place, go check out some other part of creation together." Gabriel produced a candy bar and began unwrapping it.

"Wait a minute - you placed a Grace anchor in me to block Lucifer's ability to connect to human souls during his battle with Michael. But surely Michael would have had the same ability? I thought you didn't want to help either side, but you only crippled one!" Gabriel paused in lifting the piece of chocolate to his mouth and looked puzzled.

"Well, I hadn't bargained on the existence of Adam, that's true. But I assumed that if you said yes, then so would Dean, that if nothing else you saying yes would force his hand." Sam gave a cynical bark of laughter.

"I don't see how that helps. Adam or Dean, what difference does it make if they were both True Vessels of Michael?" Gabriel sat back, his face a bizarre mix of astonishment, horror and amusement.

"You mean to say he doesn't know?"

"Who doesn't know? Dean?" Sam pressed, alarmed. "What doesn't Dean know, Gabriel?"

"About the Grace anchor he carries, of course. It's where I got the idea in the first place."

Sam reeled.  _Dean was carrying a Grace anchor too?_

"Wait, so who placed a Grace anchor in Dean?" Gabriel leveled a look at him. Sam felt stupid. "Cas. Oh, God. Dean's going to lose his shit."

"Don't tell him," Gabriel said with a shrug.

"You've got to be kidding me. You know, all the shit we're dealing with right now, with the Darkness and all, is partly because Dean and I kept secrets from each other." Sam told the archangel seriously.

" _The darkness!"_ Gabriel laughed. "Is that some kind of weird euphemism for all the bad things you two have done to each other and for each other over the years?" Sam's face was excruciating, guilt and self-loathing battling for dominance. Gabriel's face fell.

"You're not serious."

"I am. The Darkness. God's sister. She's free," he gulped. "I uh...I let her out." Gabriel let himself collapse backwards onto the bed.

"You've pushed the world to the brink of destruction  _again_? Need I ask why, Sam?" He asked, resignedly.

"It's a long story." Sam offered weakly.

* * *

Dean stood up, no longer able to keep still with the storm of emotions roiling inside him. He was seething, Cas realized, and it was only a matter of time before he exploded.

"So explain to me again how this is OK, because I really don't get it. Goddamn angels! You say you're all about consent, but exactly what did Sam know about what he was agreeing to?" Cas' face was drawn and strained.

"I am certain Gabriel only had the best of intentions. And he was still maintaining his Trickster persona when he decided to do this." Cas swallowed. "It is my fault too, in a sense. I had carved those symbols into your ribs to hide you both from Heaven, and suddenly Gabriel couldn't keep track of you any more." Dean's hands clenched.

"He was following us?" he demanded. "Why?"

"According to Gabriel, he was obsessed with Sam from the first time you met. He fell in love with him."

"You've got to be kidding me! Gabriel, in love with Sam? Secretly, for years, without saying anything, or doing anything. Even actively working against him. Us." Dean shook his head.

"It's the truth." Cas told him and Dean snorted disbelievingly. He turned and yanked open the door, striding down the hall with purpose. Gabriel was not going to get away with this. Cas gulped and tore after him.

* * *

Gabriel was lying on the bed, his hands tugging at his hair in his frustration.

"Why am I even surprised? You two are like some kind of doomsday machine! Actually, you three. Castiel doesn't get off the hook here either. If I had my Grace…" he trailed off.

"What? What would you do? Ditch us, tell us 'you're on your own suckers' and go find some other planet to play on like you planned?" Sam's voice was cold. "We screwed up.  _I_  screwed up. Again. I know that. We're trying to fix it."

"I won't abandon you. I wanted my Grace just so I could kill all three of you several times just to get it out of my system. The Darkness is bad news, Sam. Really bad news. Metatron probably knows more than anyone about what really happened, but my understanding is, you remember that bit at the beginning of Genesis, where God separates the light and the darkness?" Sam nodded, his eyes wide.

"That's the sacrifice - that separation. He bound her, and locked her away. That's all I know. Can we talk about something else?"

"Well, you were telling me about this blood kink of yours…" Sam prompted.

"Ours, Sammy. I don't remember you exactly holding back." Sam glared and Gabriel held up his hands. He sat up and scrambled up the bed, dragging Sam with him. He tucked Sam against his chest, and took a deep breath.

"OK, OK. It's a bonding thing. When angels bond, we exchange pieces of our power. In Heaven, as wavelengths of celestial intent, there's nothing physical about it. Heaven's a dull place. Here, on earth in a vessel or with a human like you," Gabriel paused. "OK, with a human  _or_ someone like you, that power is in the blood."

"Will this not antagonize Lucifer's Grace, just like...other activities?" Sam asked. Gabriel shook his head.

"It shouldn't. Lucifer doesn't believe in bonding. So I'm hoping he won't be threatened by it." Gabriel tried to look nonchalant but there was a thread of concern in his voice.

"Lucifer doesn't believe in bonding?" Sam puzzled.

"I don't mean he doesn't think it exists, I mean he can't understand how it could be important. Sam, Lucifer is my brother. I will never not love him, no matter what he does,  _because_ he is my brother. But I also know what he is. He is a sociopath and a narcissist. Empathy, caring for others, even the love he professes for our Father, are ultimately all in service of his own ego. That's why he fell.

"He'll complain that he fell because he loved God too much. I'm sure he believes it. But it's not really true. You accused me of only loving myself, of doing things only for my own selfish interest. I was angry at that characterization, but you were right to an extent. I am a selfish creature, and powerful enough that I am not beholden to many. Narcissism kinda comes with the territory. What saves me from truly living up to that description is that it is a pitch perfect portrait of Lucifer. I can have empathy, especially for those less powerful than me, because I recognize that I am one of the most powerful creatures in creation, but I do not believe that might makes right.

"Being a trickster god was awesome because I got to right a few of the wrongs of the world, in small ways, to stand up for little guys in the face of bullies and id-monsters like my brother. I was angry with you because you accused me basically of  _being_ my brother. And I hate that thought." Gabriel tilted his head back after that speech, his eyes focussed a world away.

"I'm sorry. I take it back." Sam said. "I was confused by my attraction to you, because it felt familiar but that was impossible and I took it out on you. Which, is kind of your own fault, because you erased that memory. But still, I apologize, I was being a dick." Gabriel danced his fingers across Sam's stomach in a familiar rhythm, making the muscles twitch and tense. "So, Lucifer doesn't believe in bonding because his concept of love is essentially self-centered, and therefore not really love at all, because he can't conceive of sharing any part of himself in a significant way. Have I got that right?" Gabriel propped himself up on Sam's chest so he could look into his eyes.

"You really are the most incredible human. Or whatever," he breathed.

"You keep excluding me from the human race, Gabriel. It's starting to weird me out." Gabriel gave a short laugh that was strangely amusement-free.

"You have no idea, Sammy. But don't get too excited. It's just you have demon blood in your veins, a fallen archangel's Grace in your soul and you lost your soul and then regained it. You've been dead more than once. I'm sorry Sam, I don't know what you are, but human you ain't."

* * *

Dean hammered on the door, roaring. Gabriel opened the door, looking a little disheveled and bleeding slightly from a tiny wound on his neck. Dean's eyes widened and his face paled.

"Why are you bleeding?" he accused, his eyes flying to his brother. Sam was propped up against the headboard, a lopsided smile on his face and a smear of blood on his mouth. Dean felt cold, reminded eerily of the moment he'd discovered Sam's demon blood addiction. "What. The. Hell?" Gabriel's face was extraordinary, a weird mix of amusement and guilt.

"Dean," Cas laid a hand on his shoulder. Dean shrugged him off and squared off against the archangel.

"What have you done to Sam?" he thundered. Gabriel's eyes flashed.

"That really is nothing to do with you. Sam is an adult, he can make his own choices." his tone was forbidding.

"Make his own choices? He looks totally out of it - like he's been drugged! Did you roofie my brother?" Gabriel snorted with disdain.

" _Please_. Can you hear yourself? Sam's fine. You're overreacting."

"I'm overreacting. You're feeding your blood to my demon-blood addict brother, and  _I'm_ overreacting? You're freaking Ruby with wings! Is angel blood as addictive as a demon's? "

" _Dean!_ " Cas exclaimed. Gabriel's face was frosty.

"No, angel blood is not addictive. Sam has not fallen off the wagon. This is about me and him, nothing else. You're his brother, and you love him. You're worried about him. So I'm going to let a lot of this go. But I am not a danger to Sam, and you need to  _back off!_ " Gabriel snarled.

Sam wiped his hand across his mouth and slid off the bed.

"Gabriel," he said gently. "Let me talk to Dean for a moment." Gabriel's face softened, before he nodded and turned away crisply. He strode out onto the balcony, and Cas trailed in his wake.

"Sammy...I'm freaking out here, man! You're drinking his blood, don't you see what's going on here?" When he realized Sam had a bleeding bite mark under his collar, Dean clenched his fists. "Is he drinking yours too?"

"You make us sound like vampires." he told his brother. "It's a taste, nothing more. It's part of our bonding. Gabriel is not Ruby."

"That's what you say, what Gabriel and Cas say. But this feels really off, Sam." He paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. Sam tugged at his hair in frustration.

"Look, Dean, I understand you're not thrilled about any of this. You don't like Gabriel, you don't trust him and I've not exactly got a stellar history of good relationship choices. But this is happening. I want it to happen. Gabriel makes me happy, can't you see that? For the first time in a really long time I can see a future that isn't soaked in blood and horror. You and me, we don't get a normal life. I've come to accept that. But that doesn't mean I want to be alone, that I don't need love and affection. And Gabriel isn't some innocent human who'll get killed simply by being in my life, so maybe I have a shot here at something that lasts."

"If he's not just toying with you, that is." Dean snarled. Sam folded his arms.

"No. He's not. You'll just have to take my word for it. We have challenges ahead, dealing with this piece of Lucifer in my soul. And maybe I'm wrong and I don't get to build anything with Gabriel because we can't fix that problem." He took a deep breath. "But I want to try and I'd like your support."

The fire of Dean's anger had burned itself out, and he sagged against the wall, tilting his head back and huffing out frustrated breaths. "I'll think about it," he told his brother. "That's the best I can do."

* * *

Dean was strangely silent and contemplative at breakfast. Cas was solicitous and gentle and coaxed him into eating, drinking his coffee. Nonetheless, he was still wrapped up in his own world when they headed out to the car.

"Do you want me to drive, Dean?" Sam asked. "You seem a little out of it." To his shock, Dean just nodded silently, snagged Cas' hand and then climbed in the back of the car with the angel. Sam shot a look at Gabriel.

"Guess you're riding shotgun then." Gabriel shot him a wicked glance. "You better behave, you make me drive off the road, you don't have the Grace to put us back together!" Gabriel mock-sulked for a moment, then his grin was back. Sam cast a look back at Dean, who was staring out of the back window. He flicked a look at Cas, who gave him a helpless look.

The first few hours of the drive were uneventful. He coaxed Gabriel into telling some tales of his pagan days. Castiel managed to convince Dean to try and sleep again, doing double duty as pillow and comfort blanket. When the fuel gauge told Sam he needed to start making plans to stop for gas, they were no more than an hour from their destination.

A quick stop at a small gas station allowed Sam to stretch his legs. He leaned against the side of the car while the tank filled. Gabriel sat on the trunk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned back and looked invitingly at Sam, who gulped. Cas and Dean were right there, inside the car and he was not going to antagonize his brother unnecessarily right now.

"C'mon, Sammy," the archangel cajoled. "Just one teeny tiny kiss." He pouted prettily and Sam felt his heart thump irregularly in his chest.

"You're incorrigible." he said unsteadily as the pump clicked and he removed it from the tank. He went inside to pay for the gas and when he returned, tossed Gabriel one of his favorite candy bars. Gabriel had given him a look that was bittersweet, like he feared this was all too good to be true. Sam supposed he had good reason. Dean's opposition to their relationship was one hurdle and when Gabriel had explained about the bonding they were experiencing, he'd been awed but also concerned. If they couldn't figure this out, if Sam was left soulless or dead, what would the broken bond do to Gabriel?


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang get some answers from Metatron. Dean doesn't like the ex-Scribe's solution.

Metatron's apartment was probably a public health hazard. The former Scribe of God was a slob, pizza boxes and chinese takeout cartons littering every surface. Sam wrinkled his nose, and stepped carefully. No doubt there would be roaches, rats or other vermin with such a plentiful feast for scavengers.

Metatron himself was nowhere to be found. There was nothing of value in the apartment, and no forwarding address. Sam went and conferred with the building supervisor hanging uncertainly in the doorway, who confirmed that Metatron was already two weeks late with his rent. Sam assured him the FBI would look into covering that expense in return for his co-operation. Mollified, the man slouched off, leaving them to examine the apartment unsupervised. Despite the condition of the place, they needed to spend time searching it thoroughly. A discharge letter from the hospital where he'd recovered from the injuries Cas had inflicted on him suggested he'd been back to the apartment since leaving the hospital. Dean had opened a couple of other letters - apparently Metatron had not had health insurance and the hospital bills were stomach-wrenchingly large. Sam sighed.

"He's probably skipped town. There's no way he can come up with this kind of money."

"I told you, you shouldn't have let him go, Cas," Dean groused. But at that moment a key turned in the lock and Metatron shuffled into the room on crutches. He shrank back in alarm at the sight of Cas.

"I told you everything you wanted to know. Everything. You've ruined me. Isn't that enough?" he whined. His gaze turned to Sam and Dean, and then widened when he saw Gabriel. "Uh, hey. Gabriel. Uh, how's it going?" Gabriel's face was contemptuous.

"Metatron. I suppose I should thank you for my resurrection." Metatron actually seemed to shrink.

"Uhh, well, you're welcome. Of course, I could hardly leave my brother for dead when I had a way to bring him back. You always were my favorite of the archangels, Gabriel," he fawned. Sam started forward, his fists clenched. Gabriel reached out and held him back.

"Don't let him antagonize you, Sam." He flashed him an affectionate smile before returning his gaze to Metatron, who was glaring at them in disgust.

"Well, well, well," he remarked. "It seems Gadreel was right about you two all along. I had thought you had more class than to go slumming it." Sam thought Gabriel might snap at that, but the archangel was relaxed and unperturbed.

"I am as bored by your opinions as I am uninterested in your continued existence," Gabriel said lazily, a red thread of menace running through his voice. Metatron began to look around for an escape route, his eyes filling with panic.

"W-w-w-what i-is it that y-y-you w-want?" Metatron stammered.

"Well, turns out there's a piece of Lucifer's Grace woven neatly into Sam's soul." Gabriel examined his fingernails. "I'd like to remove it, but I don't want to destroy Sam's soul in the process. You know more about the manipulation of Grace and souls than anyone other than God Himself. I thought perhaps you might be willing to help me." Metatron's foxlike face turned sly.

"W-what are you offering in return?"

"In return, you get to live. Maybe we'll even throw in a little free healing, who knows?" Gabriel said airily. Sam shot him a look, but said nothing.

"Live?  _Live?_  That's it? More of this miserable existence? Forget it. Even with the healing, I'm nothing. Broken, Graceless. You can shove it!" Metatron sniveled. Cas stepped forward, his fists clenched. He looked at Gabriel, who nodded, before advancing on the former Scribe. Metatron's eyebrows shot up.

"You still don't have your Grace back!" he exclaimed, then quailed as Cas continued to stalk towards him. "Look, fine, fine. I have an idea. Restore  _my_ Grace and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"No way!" Dean piped up suddenly. "This little turd…" Cas made a repressive gesture and Dean subsided. Sam's mouth dropped open.

"No Grace, Metatron. You don't want what we're offering, ask for something else." Cas held Metatron's gaze.

"There is one thing…" the scruffy ex-Scribe muttered. "I want my Project 7125 notebook back."

"That's it?" Cas said suspiciously. He pulled it from his pocket and thumbed through it. "Why?"

"It's mine," Metatron replied. "I want to transcribe my experiments into a proper record." Cas exchanged looks with both Winchesters and then looked at Gabriel, who shrugged.

"I got no problem with it. Sammy?" Sam shook his head. They had taken all the useful information they could and besides, Sam had scanned the whole thing into his computer to aid with deciphering the tiny handwriting.

"Very well" Cas agreed and Metatron passed a look over the angel. "I'll tell you what I think. But just you. I'm not doing this in front of an audience."

"Then we'll take our leave." Gabriel said, like a king bestowing his beneficence and swept out of the revolting apartment, Sam in tow. Dean stumped silently after them.

* * *

Cas was silent on the drive back to the motel. Sam and Gabriel's entreaties for him to reveal what Metatron had said were met with short rebuff. So by the time they had all gathered in Sam and Gabriel's room, the tension crackled in the air like static electricity. Sam sat on the end of the bed fidgeting and picking at imaginary lint on his jeans, Gabriel stood beside him with his hand on Sam's shoulder. Dean paced up and down in front of Cas, who stood there looking like if he opened his mouth the world would end.

"Spit it out, Cas." Dean growled, speaking for the first time in several hours. Cas' gaze flicked from Dean to Gabriel and back, then he swallowed.

"Metatron suggested that you supplant the piece of Lucifer's Grace with your own by creating a Nexus." Cas said uncertainly. "That way, Sam's soul should remain intact. There's still a risk, but as long as I monitor the whole process, he thinks it could work." All the blood drained from Gabriel's face. Dean's gaze bounced between the two angels. When Gabriel didn't respond, Dean folded his arms over his chest.

"Well?" he urged. "Would that work?" Gabriel swallowed, hard.

"Yes," he confessed in a low voice. "It could work. But...Sam may not consent." Sam's head snapped up.

"Why? Why wouldn't I consent? I mean, yeah, it would be better if I didn't have pieces of angels riding around inside me, but I'd rather it was you than Lucifer." Gabriel looked directly at Sam.

"Because I would own you utterly. No matter what. You'd never be free of me. And I'm no more willing to share than my brother." Gabriel stated, his tone unsentimental and cold. "I'm very old, and very powerful. Your will would be completely subject to mine, it is not much short of slavery." Sam went very still. Dean held his breath,  _Gabriel was right, that did not sound appealing._ Sam apparently had other ideas. He was staring at Gabriel, his mouth open and his pupils blown wide. His breathing came in shallow huffs and tiny tremors shook his frame. Sam's head tilted back, baring his neck and Gabriel had to physically restrain himself from grabbing the young hunter and taking what he was so clearly offering. Dean's eyes were wide, he'd had no idea Sam had such a submissive streak and his brother's reaction to Gabriel's description appalled him. Cas placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"Do not interfere." Dean whirled on his angel, his face savage.

"Gabriel is offering to enslave my brother, and you tell me not to interfere!" Cas nodded, resolute.

"This is the natural culmination of the situation. I was expecting it. The interference of Lucifer has accelerated the timeline somewhat, but that is all." If Dean thought he couldn't be any more horrified, he was wrong.

"No…" he whispered, his voice breaking.

"What do you think is happening right now between Sam and Lucifer, if not the exact same thing? With a far crueler master," Cas hissed. Dean stared at Castiel. The angel had not seemed this...alien...in a really long time.

"I don't want this for Sammy, Cas." Dean said plaintively. "He doesn't know what he's saying, he's just desperate to get free of Lucifer." The angel turned his gaze to the tableau in front of them.

"I don't think Sam agrees, Dean." He tugged at Dean's arm."We should go."

Gabriel stared at the beauty that was laid out before him.  _Sam Winchester,_  he thought.  _You really are the most surprising person._  He had expected Sam to recoil when he explained what a Nexus was, what replacing Lucifer's Grace with his own would mean, had exaggerated a little expecting the young man to be horrified. Because in truth, he wanted this so much it hurt, and it was better that Sam walk into it with his eyes open. He stalked forward, oblivious to the frantic conversation between his brother and Dean, or the sound of Castiel pulling Dean out of the room.

"You should think about this," Gabriel said. "This is not a decision to be taken lightly." Sam looked directly into his eyes.

"I want this," Sam replied, his voice ringing with certainty and trust. Gabriel shook his head at him.

"Nuh uh. Not good enough, Sammy. I'm taking no chances that you are sure that this is what  _you_ want, that you don't feel forced into it. Think about it. I know you're stressed by Luci's invasion of your dreams. Just relax, take your time and make  _sure_ it's what you want. We can keep looking for other ways, keep this as a fallback plan." For a moment, he thought Sam might argue. But then he squared his shoulders, and nodded.

"OK, I'll think about it," he agreed, his voice husky. Gabriel suspected that if Sam was thinking about it, it was not in the way he had intended.

* * *

Dean leaned on the balcony focused on breathing slowly and evenly. Something was very wrong here, why couldn't Cas see that? The angel stood beside him, their shoulders brushing, but he was looking off into the distance and his expression was blank.

"Cas…" he started. "This doesn't feel right, man. All my instincts, as a brother and as a hunter, tell me something is very wrong here. I feel like we just stepped on a landmine, but we don't know it yet and as soon as we move, boom." The angel shifted restlessly beside him.

"There's nothing to be concerned about," Cas replied. "Gabriel would never hurt Sam, I swear. And I know you are uncomfortable with Gabriel's description of what it would mean for him to complete the...next step, but I promise he was exaggerating." Dean looked bewildered.

"Exaggerating? Why?" He turned towards Cas, his body tense and poised the way he looked before a fight.

"Because he doesn't want Sam to make this decision just to get away from Lucifer. A Nexus cannot be destroyed, once created." Dean blinked.

"Nexus?" He repeated. "Gabriel used that word too…"

"A bonding combined with an interweaving of two Graces. Or in this case, a Grace and a Soul."

"Cas, this is crazy. A month ago, as far as we were concerned, Gabriel was dead. Sam and Gabriel have gone from zero to sixty in three seconds flat. I'm worried, man. This is all happening too fast." Dean stared into Cas' eyes, begging him to see what he was getting at.

"It will seem that way to you, no doubt," Cas observed. "I told you Gabriel was in love with Sam for years before he died." That was the last straw, Dean thought.

"You have got to be kidding me, Cas. I'm talking about how quickly Sam is falling into this. The moment he wakes up, Gabriel seduces my brother. Suddenly Gabriel is all Sam thinks about, cares about. Now he's talking about taking Sam's free will away and all Sam does is look like he's been offered the most amazing thing in the universe. You know Sam better than anyone other than me. Knowing what you know about him, don't his reactions seem even a little off? This stinks, Cas. You- I can't believe you think this is a good thing. I know Gabriel's your brother, but just think about this for a moment. Doesn't any of this seem just a little fishy to you?" The angel was silent, thoughtful. Without a word he turned back to Sam and Gabriel's room, and knocked on the door.

* * *

Gabriel opened the door wide, and ushered Dean and Cas back inside. Sam was lying on the bed, and he got up when Dean stamped back into the room.

"You're always so touchy about other people making decisions for you." Dean said without preamble. "But now you want to surrender yourself...to him? What's really going on here?" Sam's face was set.

"You don't understand."

"You're damn right I don't understand." Dean roared. "This is happening too fast to be natural - it's like you're under a spell!" Sam rocked back on his heels.

"What…" Sam said weakly. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you listened to a word I've said? Gabriel woke up from his coma less than a week ago. How do you go from a standing start to selling your soul to him in a week?" Sam stared at his brother in consternation.

"All right, that's enough." Gabriel said from the door, his face sour. "Nobody's selling their soul to anyone. I hate to admit it but Dean's right, Sam. We have been moving too fast. It would probably be best to cool it a little." Sam looked like he'd been slapped across the face.

"Gabriel, no!" The archangel's mouth twisted, a number of emotions flickering across his expressive face.

"Even I can see that you are just far too ready to accept the Nexus. I was certain you'd refuse, when I explained to you what it meant. Your brother is right to be suspicious, he's just wrong about who to suspect. You are being driven into my arms, Sam. But not by me."

"Then who?" Dean demanded. Gabriel frowned and Cas looked unsettled.

"I don't know. And I'm getting tired of saying that about this whole mess."

* * *

 

Dean glared down at the cheeseburger in his hand and then dropped it back on the plate and shoved it away. Cas surreptitiously filched a few fries. Across the booth from them, Gabriel leaned against the glass of the diner's window. Sam poked listlessly at his greek salad. The waitress, a plump brunette in her mid-fifties, drifted over uncertainly.

"Everything OK with your food, hon?" She twittered. Dean flicked her a tired glance.

"Yeah, sorry. We've had a hard day." She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You want me to box that up for ya?" Dean nodded. "Yeah, good idea. Sam?"

"Sure," Sam said dully. They all jerked when the quiet of the mostly empty diner was shattered by AC/DC. Dean muttered and pulled out his phone, then blinked in surprise at the caller ID.

"Martin! Hey, what's up?" He answered. He listened intently for several minutes, offering occasionally hums and grunts to whatever Martin was telling him.

"Uh huh. No, no." Dean was saying, shooting a guilty looking glance at Cas. "OK, OK. Look, we'll check it out but we're not close. It'll be a couple days." He hung up, and his face was troubled.

"Change of plan. We're not heading back to the bunker yet. Martin says there's a whole bunch of demon signs just popping up all over the Chesapeake Bay. Looks like we need to head straight back to Maryland and go check out that sigil you found."

* * *

When Sam reached the Impala, he hesitated, his glance flickering to Gabriel. Did the archangel want him to ride in the back again, or should he swap with Cas and give him some space? Gabriel watched him wrestle with indecision and swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat.

"You riding shotgun, Sammy?" he forced himself to say, keeping his tone casual and his face carefully neutral. Sam looked so torn, it made Gabriel want to cry out. Sam opened his mouth to speak and Gabriel braced himself.

"No, I am." Cas said steadily and climbed into the car. Sam shut his mouth with a click, then moved mechanically to climb into the back. Gabriel dragged his feet as he stumbled over to climb in beside him.

"I'm sorry." Sam said quietly.

"No need to apologize, Sammy," Gabriel said easily. "Perfectly understandable…"

"What?" Sam blinked.

"Not wanting to sit next to me, I get it." He shrugged. "It's OK. I understand."

"I- that's not what I…" Sam fumbled, feeling like he was back in high school. "I thought maybe you didn't want to sit next to me. You did say we should have some space." Gabriel's breath caught, and then he tugged Sam over to lie in his lap, carding his fingers through his hair and and crooning softly. Sam went boneless under his ministrations.

"I'm sorry, Sam. We should talk about what we're doing, and how quickly we're doing it. We must. But don't mistake that for me not wanting you anymore."

* * *

They had been on the road for hours. Dean had turned off the music so that Sam could get some sleep. He and Gabriel were tangled up in the back seat, Sam's face content as Gabriel huffed against his neck. The scene would actually have been sort of adorable, if Dean Winchester was the sort of man who used words like adorable. Cas was awake of course, right now he was staring out of the window. Dean reached out his hand and tentatively squeezed the angel's hand. Cas turned his head towards him, a slow smile spreading across his face. Dean's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Hey," he whispered. "You OK?"

"Yes, Dean," the angel replied. "Are you?" Dean's other hand tightened on the wheel.

"I'm worried about Sam. I'm also a bit twitchy about what Martin told me on the phone. But yeah, I'm OK." Cas sat up.

"This Martin," he began. "You said his name was Delaval?" Dean nodded.

"Yeah, it's an old English family according to him."

"I remember," Cas said suddenly. Dean shot him a glance.

"You remember what? The family?" The angel nodded.

"Yes. And the curse." Dean started and the car swerved.

"Curse?"

"The Delaval family was cursed, not long ago. Maybe 200 years or so." Cas mused, half to himself. "They were an old hunter family, and very powerful at the time, and through a complex series of marriages the head of the family inherited the seat of the Ford family, who were powerful psychics. According to the stories, he was given a carved ram's head as a gift. Nobody knows who sent it but presumably someone that had a grudge against the family because apparently it was a cursed object. The legend says that the curse meant that no Delaval male would die in his bed, as long as the houses of Ford and Delaval were joined. But that was the least of the curse's effects. Supposedly when Edward Delaval separated the two estates, the curse ended. Certainly he died in his bed as an old man. Most of the other tales have been suppressed, but what I do know is that one part of the legend is wrong. The curse is still in effect."

Dean was silent, tumbling thoughts in his mind. "Martin's cursed?"

"His wife died in childbirth, his only daughter murdered as a young woman. Of course he's cursed."

"He said he had several artifacts from the old country. Could one of them be the ram's head?" Cas frowned.

"Why would he keep something so obviously cursed?" he asked.

"I dunno. Maybe to keep it away from anyone else. Dad has a bunch of cursed objects in storage units all over the country and Sam and I have added to the collection a few times. Other hunters do this too. Or maybe the legend's wrong. Maybe the cursed object was something else. Or it was a witch, not an object at all. Maybe the ram's head was just freaking ugly and so everyone blamed that." The angel nodded.

"Perhaps."

"So, why are you telling me this now?" Cas was solemn.

"He knows what I am," he said. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, had some funky runes on his cane that told him what you were."

"It's a gambanteinn." Cas said.

"A what now?"

"It's an old Norse term. The literal translation is 'magic wand' but that expression has lost it's power in the modern world."

"A magic wand," Dean chuckled. Cas reached out and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"They've very powerful. And they were all supposed to have been destroyed. So how did the Delaval family get one?"

 


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A turning point is reached. Sam really hates it when people talk about him behind his back.

_Sammy…_

Sam found himself standing by a tumbledown section of a stone wall. Looking around, he was somewhere in the country, with rolling green hills and drifting fog. The wall was clearly very old, the stone blocks hand-hewn and grass was growing between the blocks and on top of the wall which was around five feet tall. It stretched off into the distance in either direction like a mini Great Wall of China. Leaden skies gave the whole scene an ominous air. Something caught his eye at his feet and he scuffed at it with his shoe. It was greyish-green and looked like a the side of a coin. He bent down to dig it out from the mud. It was irregularly shaped, a little larger than a quarter and on one side was a figure sitting on a chair and the other a man's head and the words HADRIANVS AVGVSTVS.

"Hello, Sam." Lucifer's voice was like soft and affectionate. "Found a treasure?" He held out his hand and Sam handed him the coin. "Ah, Emperor Hadrian. Interesting man." He returned it to Sam. "You can find any number of Roman coins here. This wall is Hadrian's wall, built to repel the Pictish raiders on the Empire's territory in Britain, about 2000 years ago." Sam tried to look interested and not terrified. Lucifer sauntered over, then leaned against the remains of the wall. "So, Sam. I wanted to apologize. I behaved badly last time we met. Forgive me?" He twinkled at Sam, all insouciance and sincerity. Sam folded his arms over his chest.

"No. You once told me you'd never lie to me. Pretending to be Gabriel, that was a lie." He prayed Lucifer wouldn't realize how scared he was.

"You're right," Lucifer said. "I was wrong. You have to understand, Sam. You and me, we have something special. And I was afraid I was losing you."

"We have no such thing!" Sam asserted. "I don't belong to you. I don't want to belong to you. Why can't you just leave me alone?" Lucifer looked saddened, shaking his head and a single tear coursing down one cheek.

"Sammy…" he said softly. "How can you say that to me after everything we've been through? I love you, Sam. Is that so wrong?"

"You don't love me. You love you," Sam said, wondering if he was losing his mind. "I love…" he broke off.

" _Gabriel!"_  Lucifer spat. Sam shook his head.

"No, no. I was going to say I don't love anyone. Not like that, I mean," he lied.  _Shit, he was blabbering like a moron._  But it seemed to work, Lucifer was calming down.

"Good. That's good, Sam." He gave a slow, seductive smile. "So, I was apologizing. I mean it, Sam. I want us to have a fresh start. Let me show you that I'm not the bad guy here. Let me woo you." Sam burst out laughing and Lucifer looked annoyed.

"Woo me? Did I accidentally fall into a Jane Austen novel?" He sobered. Lucifer might seem affable right now but he knew better. With an apparent effort of will, Lucifer smiled again.

"Bad word choice perhaps. But give me a chance, Sam. I'll show you that you're wrong about me." He stepped forward and Sam was suddenly aware how cold it was, his breath misting in the air. Lucifer stalked towards him, his eyes predatory. Sam gulped, then gasped as the fallen archangel hooked his hand around Sam's head and pulled him down for a kiss. Sam didn't want this, didn't want to feel the wet heat of Lucifer's mouth on his, or his hand tugging at his hair. He didn't want the feel of Lucifer's other hand gliding across his hip or intend to groan at the sensations that all these things were having on him.  _Oh, God…_

He was suddenly aware of a shaking sensation, like an earthquake.

"Sam!" a voice said urgently. "Wake up!" He jerked awake to find himself in the back of the Impala, wrestling with Gabriel.

* * *

It took Sam several minutes to calm himself down enough to be able to speak. Gabriel held him tightly against his chest, whispering Enochian in his ear. Gradually his breathing slowed and he tried his voice.

"Gabriel?" he croaked. The archangel turned his face so he could look directly into Sam's eyes.

"You're OK, Sam. You're safe." he said. Sam tucked his head into Gabriel's neck, letting the archangel's scent soothe his frazzled nerves. He realized that although they were in the car, they weren't moving.

"What's going on?" he asked, tensing.

"Just stopping for gas and pie." Gabriel answered easily. "It's like some kind of weird fetish your brother has going with Castiel." Sam snorted with laughter.

"Pie's the closest thing my brother has to religion. Right now though, I think it's substituting for sex."

"Maybe we should just lock them in a room together," Gabriel suggested. "Or perhaps a bakery."

"Don't you dare!" Sam gasped. The archangel shrugged, grinning wickedly. Sam realized that Gabriel was distracting him, allowing the horror of the dream to subside. He smiled warmly at him. The driver's side door opened with it's familiar creak and Dean appeared with a plastic container that held what looked like pecan pie. Cas climbed into the passenger side, his face sulky.

"I still don't understand," he complained. "What did I say that was so wrong?" Dean's face was a picture, a combination of amused affection and utter frustration.

"Because you can't go around talking to people about what they're thinking, Cas. Mindreading freaks people out, because normal human people  _can't read minds!_ " Dean rubbed a hand over his face. Sam suppressed the urge to giggle, because he wasn't entirely certain if he started that he could stop.

Gabriel squeezed his arm,  _did he want to talk about his dream?_  Sam shook his head.

* * *

It was well after 10pm by the time they reached the motel, a few miles from the warehouse in Glen Burnie where they'd rescued Gabriel a week and a half earlier.  _Had it really been such a short span of time_ , Sam wondered. So much had happened… His mind cast back to the scene in the motel with Dean yelling about how everything was moving too fast. He'd been really pissed at his brother for that, but now he'd had time to reflect. Maybe Dean did have a point and as much as much Sam hated it, his brother was only trying to protect him.

They gathered in Cas and Dean's room, relaxing with a few drinks and talking about inconsequential things. Gabriel amused them all with some tall tales about his adventures as Loki, Dean got into a friendly argument with Cas about the relative merits of pie versus cake, and Sam just soaked it all in. So when he realized he was falling asleep in the chair, he dragged himself upright and announced that he was turning in.

"I'll be right behind you," Gabriel told him, gesturing with the milky brown drink in his hand. "I just started this...whatever it is? Mudslide?" Sam waved him off.

"Take your time, I'll see you in a few." Gabriel watched him leave and was aware that Dean and Castiel were doing likewise.

"You wanted to talk to me," he said. It was not a question. Dean looked surprised.

"Oh, please. You two are a subtle as a sledgehammer to the head." Gabriel smirked.

"I just wanted to ask you something," Dean said, swirling his bourbon around the tumbler, his tone casual but his body tense. "Lucifer's invading Sam's dreams and they're not just sitting around and chatting about the weather are they?" Gabriel inhaled slowly.

"No. No, he's working pretty hard on seducing Sam. Although his concept of consent is more than a little iffy." Gabriel was expressionless, but a little concern was bleeding into his voice.

"See, that's what has me wondering. If someone was making the moves on C- on someone I was dating, I'd be pissed." Castiel was trying to conceal his interest in this statement, Gabriel noted with amusement. "And yet you seem, not OK with it but not mad about it either. I don't get it." Dean wondered if this was really a smart idea, poking the bear of Gabriel's anger like this but he had to know.

"Well, first of all, what you're suggesting is not quite how things are." Gabriel said easily. "I don't own Sam, not right now anyway." Dean stiffened, but Gabriel gave him a quelling glance and he subsided. "And there is real attraction to Lucifer there, even if Sam won't admit it to himself." Dean stood up, outraged.

"You've got to be kidding me! How can you say that?" Dean yelled. "Why would he be attracted to that...monster...Oh." Gabriel nodded and gave a pained grin.

"Oh, indeed. But you have to understand, Luci's  _very_ persuasive, and when he wants to be charming and alluring, he can be. Sam has a particular psychological makeup that is susceptible to that. Add that to a really abnormal childhood, and you have a recipe for a personality that Lucifer can manipulate at will.

"So when you ask why I'm not getting all jealous and mad when Sam is tempted by Luci in his dreams, well, what's the point? Sam's not responsible for having the dreams. Do I hate it, wish I could stop it? Sure. But you know how we do that, and for now I'm happier managing the situation as we have been. At some point, it will come to a head, and we'll deal with it then."

* * *

Sam held himself very still as he listened to Dean and Gabriel's conversation. He was not naturally inclined to eavesdrop but Dean was easy to read and clearly wanted to talk to Gabriel alone, almost certainly about him. That was hard to ignore. He leaned against the wall, trying to keep his temper under control as he heard Gabriel talk about his sublimated attraction to Lucifer. Gabriel was wrong, of course. He wasn't attracted to Lucifer,  _dammit_ , it was just in the dream state Lucifer was able to control his reactions in some way, make him feel things that weren't real. Clearly he needed to explain this to Gabriel, even though it should be  _fucking obvious_.

He dug his hands into his pockets and frowned when his fingers encountered something small and hard. He pulled it out and inhaled in shock at the Roman coin in his hand, the one from his dream.  _How was this possible?_ He should really go back into Dean's room and show them all what he had found, but they were already talking about him behind his back.  _Fuck it._ He shoved the coin back into his pocket and headed off to his room, his hands clenched.

* * *

Gabriel drained the last of his drink, which was essentially alcoholic chocolate milk as far as he was concerned and what's not to love about that?

"Well, I should probably head back to my room, let you get some sleep, Dean," he said. "Or whatever else you had planned!" he added slyly with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. Dean went red, and Cas was an interesting shade of raspberry.

"One more for the road?" Dean asked. Gabriel looked at him in surprise.

"Thought you'd be glad to be rid of me, to be honest. We're not exactly friends," he said cautiously. Dean leveled a look at him.

"You're dating my brother. So it would be nice if we can at least tolerate each other. And you're not so bad when you're not messing with us, y'know?" Gabriel pretended to fall over in mock shock.

"Be still my beating heart," he declared. Cas snorted, a most atypical sound for the angel and Dean laughed. "OK, maybe one more drink. But then I really must get back to Sam, I don't want him left on his own for too long."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer makes good on his promise.

Sam had fallen into bed and almost immediately into a deep sleep. When he became aware he was dreaming, he was not unduly alarmed because this dream didn't start with that creepy whispering of his name. He was in what appeared to be a really high-class hotel suite. The ivory bedlinens were soft and expensive looking, the minibar was stocked with top shelf liquor. He looked down at himself - he was wearing some kind of pajamas in buttery soft black silk. He padded on barefeet into the bathroom, which had a huge whirlpool tub and a glass shower cubicle so large that even Sam felt dwarfed by it. The floor was some kind of expensive slate tile and the whole room was tastefully decorated in silver, gray, black and white.

"Fancy." Sam muttered.

"I'm glad you like it," Lucifer's voice purred in his ear. Sam jolted, totally taken off guard and spun around. Lucifer was dressed up to the nines, in a beautifully tailored tuxedo that was clearly handmade. He gave Sam a short bow, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. "I have something for you." he said and gestured towards the bedroom. Sam reluctantly followed the direction of his hand to see a suit hanger on the bed. He shot an uncertain look at Lucifer, where was this going?

Opening the zipper revealed another tuxedo, which if Sam wasn't mistaken was also handmade and looked as if it would fit perfectly. He looked back over his shoulder.

"Try it on," Lucifer urged. When Sam didn't move he gave a cheeky grin and turned his back. Sam was torn, he did not want to do this. But he wasn't sure what Lucifer could do to him if he defied him too openly. Perhaps he should play along for now, Gabriel would be back in their motel room soon and he'd wake Sam up from this nightmare. He pulled the suit, shirt and bow tie from the carrier and began to dress.

When he came to tie the bow-tie, he sighed. This was a real one, not a fake and he had no clue how to tie it. Lucifer came to his rescue, elegant fingers deftly manipulating the cloth until he'd tied a perfect bow. He pulled Sam over to the full length mirror near the door. Sam blinked, the suit fit like it had been made for him.

"I did have it made for you," Lucifer breathed in his ear. Sam swallowed, his mouth dry. "Shall we?" He offered his arm to Sam and unsure what else to do, the young hunter had no choice but to take it. Where the Hell was Gabriel?

Lucifer shepherded Sam through the hotel corridor to the elevator. Once inside, Lucifer pressed the Lobby button, and looked Sam up and down admiringly.

"That suit is perfection," he commented. "Even if I do say so myself." Sam tugged at the collar of the shirt.

"I feel like a fraud," he mumbled. "This fancy get-up isn't really me." Lucifer just smiled at him, an open, approving gaze that made him feel vaguely unsettled. The elevator doors swooshed open, to reveal an elaborate hotel lobby, complete with giant crystal chandeliers and smartly uniformed bellboys. Lucifer snapped his fingers and an eager looking young man, who could have been no more than nineteen or twenty, snapped to attention.

"Sir, your car is waiting." He hovered expectantly and Lucifer idly passed him a folded bill, a fifty if Sam wasn't mistaken. He frowned, did Lucifer really think he was impressed by such flashiness? The fallen archangel noticed his expression, and gave an affable grin.

"George's mother died of a drug overdose last year, and he has three young sisters to take care of. I didn't tip him generously to impress you, I did it because he has done everything I have asked of him this evening, such as arranging our transport, and he needs the money." He strode towards the large lobby doors, where a immaculately maintained white vintage Jaguar with ruby-red leather upholstery was waiting. A uniformed chauffeur stood attentively by the vehicle, and when he saw Sam and Lucifer approach, opened the door and ushered them inside. Sam looked around the car's interior as the driver pulled away from the hotel. Dean would appreciate this car he thought. Thinking of his brother immediately drew his thoughts back to Gabriel. This dream had gone on a really long time. Surely Gabriel would be waking him soon…

Staring out of the window, at the narrow streets and noticing suddenly that they were driving on the left, Sam exhaled in recognition. They were in London. He flicked a look at Lucifer, did he like England in particular or was there a reason they were here? The car pulled up outside another hotel, the Dorchester. Sam frowned, why had they gone from one hotel to another? The chauffeur opened the door and Sam climbed out after Lucifer and let the archangel escort him inside. He was steered towards the hotel restaurant, named for a famous French chef. Sam blinked. A Michelin-starred restaurant in central London was going to be pricey.

The dining room was beautiful, simply but strikingly decorated with neutral tones. Sam felt intimidated, the people in this room were all elegant and refined. Lucifer stoked his arm reassuringly.

"Relax, Sam. Nobody is going to pay any attention to us." They were guided to a secluded table and presented with menus that were almost like works of art. "I think we should order the tasting menu," Lucifer advised. "It's always good, and less scary than trying to choose from the a la carte menu. But it's up to you." Overwhelmed, Sam nodded in agreement.

"OK, sure. That sounds fine. There's uh, no prices on this menu…" Lucifer smiled indulgently at him and Sam felt stupid.

"Of course not, that would be crass." the archangel told him. "Now, would you like some wine? Or champagne perhaps?" He perused the wine list with a studied air, then made some kind of gesture that summoned what Sam guessed was the sommelier to the table. Lucifer fired a series of questions at the man in rapid French and was answered in the same. Apparently they came to an agreement and the sommelier disappeared as swiftly as he had arrived. He returned with a bottle of French champagne, the name of which Sam had never heard of. The wine was straw colored and fizzed delicately in the glass. Lucifer lifted his and tilted it towards Sam, at a loss he picked up his glass and touched the rim to Lucifer's with a clink.

"To a new start," Lucifer said and Sam gritted his teeth. Gabriel wasn't coming, maybe he'd have to try and rouse himself somehow. He took a swallow of champagne and shivered. Sam knew nothing about wine, but this was exquisite. Lucifer looked delighted.

"You like that? Good, good. The vineyard is a personal favorite, and this vintage is one of the best." He savored another mouthful before laying down his glass and focusing his attention on Sam.

Eased by the champagne and the incredible dishes that were placed in front of him, Sam realized he was starting to relax. Lucifer wasn't going to push his luck with him tonight it seemed and maybe he should just let this all wash over him, not get so frantic about trying to wake up. The conversation flowed, they talked about Sam's days at Stanford, tales of his childhood and then, as the first bottle of champagne gave way to the second, moved on to more philosophical topics.

"You were all set to become a lawyer," Lucifer observed. "If Dean hadn't dragged you back into the life." Sam stiffened.

"Well, there was the small matter of my girlfriend getting murdered by a demon." He said angrily. Lucifer looked sympathetic.

"Azazel's moronic little scheme - yes, I know. Not my doing, Sam. I was quite unhappy when I found out about it. I had given strict orders that you were to be left alone, allowed to live some of your life before the whole Apocalypse nonsense kicked off. I'd have preferred to avoid all that unpleasantness too of course, but Michael always the most hard-headed of brothers." He gave a short laugh and a knowing look at Sam. "You know how that goes." Sam smiled despite himself.

"Yeah, I do. I mean look at the whole debacle with Cas!" He stopped, he probably shouldn't have said that. Lucifer looked curious, and Sam cursed under his breath.

"Don't tell me your brother finally took that angel to bed?" the archangel said, his eyes wide. Sam laughed.

"Does everyone know about them and this ridiculous dance they've got going? No, they've not quite taken that step yet but I don't think it will be long." He smiled at the thought, and Lucifer grinned back at him.

"You're really glad about it," he perceived."You want this for Dean." Sam leaned back in his chair, considering.

"Yes. I'm glad because as much as I wanted Dean to have a chance at a normal life, the truth is he isn't cut out for it. Neither of us are, I guess. But with Cas he has a chance at love and happiness at least. And for a hunter, that's big. Most of us die young, bloody and alone." Sam's mouth tugged down and Lucifer laid his hand out on the table, palm up. Sam stared at it like it was a snake, then tentatively reached out and laid his hand on top. The skin of Lucifer's palm was dry and soft, and surprisingly cool. Sam breathed in and out through his nose, waiting for the other shoe to drop but Lucifer remained still. So Sam curled his fingers into the archangel's palm drawing a small gasp from him. He dared to look up into Lucifer's eyes. The archangel looked entranced, like he held a rare, delicate thing in his hands that he feared he might accidentally crush.

Someone cleared their throat next to Sam's shoulder and he blinked up to see the waiter, carrying a tray with two glasses of some kind of liquor. Most likely brandy he thought, judging by the balloon glasses.

"Ah, the cognac!" Lucifer exclaimed, clearly thrilled. "The mark of a truly great civilization can be measured by how they finish a meal." he declared and sipped daintily, indicating that Sam should do the same. Compared to the cheap bourbon he was used to, this was heady stuff. Rich and velvety on his tongue, Sam was vaguely aware that he was more than a little tipsy. That was probably not smart, but he couldn't quite remember why at that moment. Hadn't he been trying to wake up? It didn't seem quite so urgent any more.

* * *

One more for the road had turned into three and as Gabriel weaved down the hall to the room he was sharing with Sam he began to feel slightly guilty. Sam had been relying on him to protect him from the dreams of Lucifer and he'd promised not to be long. But he'd spent another two hours in Cas and Dean's room, talking and joking and making real inroads into building an understanding with Sam's brother. So when he tiptoed into the room to see Sam, sound asleep and his face peaceful, he slumped with relief. Lucifer didn't come to Sam every night and apparently this was one of the nights off. He slid in beside Sam and closed his eyes.

* * *

After returning to the amazing hotel room, Sam had begun to wonder how far Lucifer was going to take this "date". Sitting on the large, comfortable couch, he worked on not looking nervous. Evidently he failed, because Lucifer shot him an amused glance.

"Relax, Sam. Nothing's happening here that you don't want. We can just sit and talk if you'd like." Sam thought about it.

"I'm OK with that." Lucifer brandished a bottle of cognac at him. Sam's brow creased. "Is that the same stuff from the restaurant?" The archangel gave him a sultry smile and Sam felt a flush creep up his neck.

"It was so delicious, I couldn't resist." He poured some into two tumblers and handed one to Sam. "Not the correct glassware I'm afraid. I could ask for some, if you want."

"No, don't trouble yourself. This is fine." Lucifer dropped bonelessly onto the couch next to him, but with sufficient distance that Sam did not feel uncomfortable. That thought troubled him for a second, shouldn't he feel uncomfortable even in the same room as Lucifer? He shrugged the notion off, everything was under control and Lucifer had behaved himself.

"You never did answer my question," the archangel said. Sam frowned, trying to remember what it was. "I was asking if you think you would have been happy as a lawyer."  _Oh, right._ He considered the question.

"It's hard to say. I mean I was enjoying my time at Stanford, including my classes. Actually practicing law, I don't know. It's now so far out of the realm of my experiences it seems almost mythical. Much like most people would regard my life." He chewed on his lip. "I don't know how much of it was just getting away, from Dad, from the unrelenting horror of fighting monsters day after day, from the shadow of my mother's death that dominated Dad and Dean's life in a way it never could for me, because I never knew her." He choked back a sob that suddenly threatened. Lucifer took his hand and stroked it, solicitous and understanding.

"I am sorry, Sam." he said abruptly. "I swear I would have put an end to it if I had known." Sam swallowed the rest of his cognac in one mouthful. Lucifer refilled his glass but he seemed suddenly tense. "Can I ask you another question?" he asked diffidently. Sam frowned, the tone didn't sit well with his impression of the archangel's character. "What do you imagine Sam, when you think about the future?" Sam eyebrows rose in astonishment.

"It depends. Once upon a time, I just wanted a normal life. Marriage, kids, a dog, picket fence. You know, the usual sorts of things." He paused.

"But not now?" Lucifer prompted, edging closer and stretching out one arm to rest on the back of the couch, his fingers trailing across Sam's shoulders. "Now you want something else?" Sam considered the question.

"I guess. For a while I wasn't sure I'd have much of a future. I mean hunters die young and bloody or old and lonely. Me and Dean have been both more and less lucky than the average hunter in that regard. We both should have been gone for good more than once. I'm not sure what terrible crime I committed to keep getting brought back!" He gave a laugh that almost turned into a sob. "So now my wishes are simpler. I don't want to be alone. I don't mean Dean, though I suppose we're stuck with each other anyway. I want to be with someone I can love. That's it. Is that asking for so much?" He raked a hand through his hair.

"No, Sam. I think it's far less than you deserve." Lucifer said, his voice soft. Sam gave him a hard glance.

"So, why won't you let me have it?" His hands gripped the arm of the couch so hard his knuckles whitened. "Let me go, let me be with Gabriel. He's my choice, Lucifer." The archangel leaned back slightly.

"Is he though, Sam? Do you understand what Gabriel did to you? Explain to me how you, someone who cares so much about their free will, can forgive him for initiating a bonding with you without properly explaining what he was doing?" Sam swallowed.

"I don't know what you mean? Are you talking about the Grace anchor?" Lucifer nodded. "How does that relate to the bonding?"

"The anchoring ritual is not meant to be sexual," Lucifer informed him. "And although not unheard of, a blood exchange through tasting, rather than just mingling using open wounds, is more like a bonding ritual than the anchoring ritual. Gabriel seduced you, not only into accepting the anchor, but into laying the groundwork for him to initiate a bond with you." Sam breathed through his nose, slow and steady. He was not going to get upset.

"I thought you didn't believe in bonding." he said unsteadily. Lucifer was nonchalant.

"I don't. I believe in freedom, Sam. Bonding is barbaric, uncivilized. If two people want to pledge themselves to each other, they should be free to do that. But if one wants to walk away at some time in the future, shouldn't they also be free to do that? Breaking a bond is possible but it is difficult and painful. It sounds to me like a cage. A golden cage, at least at first, but still a prison." Sam gazed at the archangel, his face was pensive.

"And what do you call this piece of Grace in my soul?" Lucifer sat up straighter and his hand glided up the side of Sam's neck.

"A bandage." the archangel told him. "Your soul was torn and bleeding by Castiel ripping you out of the Cage. If I hadn't patched you up immediately, you'd have remained soulless for the rest of your life because there would have been no soul to restore. Try and understand, Sam. If I could have fixed you up any other way, I would have. But I had no choice."

"I don't believe you. Do you think I've forgotten how you behaved the first time I dreamed of you after Gabriel reawakened this piece of your Grace? Or the time you masqueraded as Gabriel, trying to trick me?" Lucifer sighed.

"You're angry. You've every right to be angry. I was furious with Gabriel, for what he'd done to you. And I was vexed with you for letting him. It's no excuse, I know how persuasive my brother is when he wants something. I shouldn't have blamed you, or took my temper out on you. Once I realized how badly I was behaving, I decided that the only thing I could do was apologize. And hope that you might find it in your heart to forgive me." Lucifer's face was penitent and pleading. Sam ground his teeth. The archangel sounded so sincere. The elegant fingers slid up into his hair and Sam shivered. "Just think about what I've said," the archangel added. "That's all I ask."

"I think I'd like to get some rest," he said. Lucifer took his glass, his fingers brushing gently against the inside of Sam's wrist and he trembled. And the dream state dissolved.

* * *

Sam's eyes opened slowly, slight disorientated. Beside him he could hear the slow, regular breathing of Gabriel. He rolled over, slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he considered the dream. Had it been real, or was this all his own subconscious and nothing to do with Lucifer at all? His mouth twisted, he had been intending to wake Gabriel and tell him about it but really, what was there to tell? That he went to dinner, and they talked. That nothing of any import had actually occurred. Gabriel was already worried, he knew and then there was the short overheard conversation between the archangel, Dean and Cas. His mouth tightened, he did not appreciated being discussed like that behind his back. That decided it. There was no need to alarm them about this dream, it probably wasn't the real Lucifer anyway.

He crawled back into bed and spooned around Gabriel, appreciating the warmth of the archangel's body, so different from the strangely appealing coolness of Lucifer. He leaned forward to bury his nose in Gabriel's neck, and let the archangel's scent wash over his senses.

 


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and their angels investigate Metatron's warehouse once again.

The warehouse looked the same as it had the last time they were here, Sam thought. Apparently nobody had noticed that the chain on the gate had been cut or that one of the doors was unlocked.

"I guess Metatron was too tight to pay for any security." Sam commented, his eyes roving the yard for any sign of a guard or the promised dogs. Just because they hadn't encountered any last time didn't mean things hadn't changed. Metatron was now aware that they had been to the warehouse, after all.

"Or Gadreel was in charge of that and once he was out of the picture…" Dean shrugged.

"You think there'll be any more of those mutant bugs?" Sam asked, grimacing at the memory of that ghastly leech.

"Who knows?" Dean replied. "We just need to stay alert." He handed a shotgun to Gabriel, and the archangel inspected the weapon curiously. When he peered down the barrel, Sam snatched it out of his hands and returned it to the trunk of the car. He pulled out a machete and handed that over to Gabriel instead.

"You at least know how to use a blade." he said, oddly irritated. Gabriel grinned and tested the weight of the machete in his hands. "Let's get going."

As they got closer to the warehouse, Cas and Gabriel suddenly stopped dead. Dean turned around and glared at them.

"What are you waiting for?" he groused.

"The building is warded against angels. And other things too. It's incredible sigilwork. I've never seen anything like it." Cas breathed. Gabriel squinted at it.

"Metatron's handiwork, I would say. Well, I guess you have to stay and watch the car." Cas frowned at him. "I was in there before remember, and the Winchesters were able to carry me out. With my Grace still low, I think I'll be able to enter." Cas looked doubtful, so Gabriel strode forward purposefully, yanked open the door and disappeared inside. Dean swore and he hurried forward, Sam at his heels.

* * *

The warehouse office was in as much disarray as last time but as Sam looked around, something felt different. He raked through the memory in his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. The three of them crept out into the corridor, the heady scent of urine and decaying fast food assailing their senses.

"Do you want to split up?" Sam asked. "We can cover more ground that way." Dean shook his head adamantly.

"No way, Sammy. Not after last time. We stick together." He clicked on his flashlight and headed back towards the room where Gabriel had been held. The silence was eerie, not even the skittering of rats so when a crunching sound came from under Sam's foot, he jumped. He lifted his foot to see he'd stepped on a pile of cockroaches. He stared at them, horrified. These were regularly sized, not obviously mutated but for them to pile on top each other like this seemed weird and creepy. He scraped his shoe on the concrete floor in disgust. Dean had already entered the room at the end of the hall ahead of him. Sam focused, he did not want to get caught out again. But as soon as he entered the room, he felt like someone had sucked all of the oxygen out of his lungs. His head began to spin and he swayed. An arm slipped around his waist to steady him.

"Hey, Sammy! You OK? You look kinda peaky there." Gabriel said, his tone easy and light but a concerned light in his eyes. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head and Gabriel barked out an alarm. Dean was there in seconds, helping Gabriel support the sudden dead weight of Sam's body, his face taut with strain.

"What's going on? What's wrong with Sam?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Gabriel said. "He started to shake as soon as he entered the room. There is a strong sense of power here. Without my Grace I can't tell for sure whose it is, but I don't think I need to with Lucifer's sigil centered on this place. The central power source  _must_ be here." Sam groaned and his eyes flickered open.

"Hey Sammy," Gabriel said gently. Sam blinked, his head woozy.

"What happened?" he slurred. Gabriel's face was a mask and Dean looked like he was chewing a wasp.

"You passed out as soon as we entered the room." Dean told him. Sam pulled himself free of Dean and Gabriel's supporting arms.

"I'm OK. Let's keep going." Dean exchanged a glance with Gabriel.

"There's something here, powering the sigil. We have to find the source of that power." Gabriel sounded on edge. Dean's stance shifted as he cast his glance around the room. He began prowling the room, but other than two candle stubs and an empty fire bucket, there was nothing else. Dean growled under his breath.

"It's not in here," Gabriel said at the same time as Dean grunted, "There's nothing here." Gabriel's grin was fierce. "Is there another room, in that direction?" he asked, pointing in the direction of the corridor. Dean frowned, remembering.

"Dunno, man. Sam was hurt and you were in a coma. We had other concerns." He headed out into the corridor and looked around for another door. Gabriel followed him, wondering if his decision to leave his Grace level low rather than hurt Sam had been in error. If he had his Grace now, they could this would be so much easier, except of course he wouldn't have been able to enter in the first place.  _And you'd have to leave Sam because just being close to you would be agony._  He snarled to himself, caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Dean had moved ahead and gave a shout, so Gabriel dismissed his internal discussion and followed the sound of the older Winchester's voice.

Sam stayed behind, staring at the faded marks on the floor where they'd found Gabriel. There was this strange pulsating sensation in his head. And then he knew. He strode purposefully out of the door, straight past Dean and Gabriel who were cautiously creeping down the corridor, the chopped up remains of a mutated maggot writhing on the floor. He disappeared around the corner and Dean barked out a warning.

"Sam! Hold up!" Cursing, he picked up his pace in pursuit of his brother. Gabriel started in surprise before racing after the boneheaded brothers.

Around the corner, Sam had found another door, a heavy metal-framed fireproof door that would not be possible to break down. He was working on the lock and cursing under his breath, the lock was badly maintained and proving difficult to open. But after a several attempts and one broken pick, the lock finally clicked and the door swung open. The room was filled with metal shelving, most of it empty. A small chest was set on the shelves opposite the door. Dean could feel the power in this room, reality almost seemed to warp around the chest, which appeared to be made of some strange black wood. Carved into the wood were Enochian symbols that seemed to twist and distort in a disturbing way.

"It's ebony." Gabriel said softly. "Could it be…" Sam drifted into the room, almost trancelike. The box was calling to him in some indefinable way. He reached out to touch it and Gabriel tugged his hand back.

"Let me, I'm not sure what it would do to you if it is what I think it is. In fact, you'd better close your eyes." He placed his hands on the box and examined the carvings closely. Then he gently began to lift the lid. Dean slapped one hand over his brother's eyes and turned them both around.

"Father…" Gabriel breathed. Inside was an emerald, about the size and shape of a duck's egg, nestled in white silk. A black curl of smoke appeared to writhe sinuously inside it. Dean heard a thunk as the archangel dropped the lid closed again.

"What is it?" Dean asked, a terrible feeling creeping over him.

" _Lapsit exillis_." Gabriel replied, his tone awed and foreboding. Dean frowned, coming up blank.

"It's the source of Lucifer's power before his Fall. Some call it his Heart. " Dean sucked in a breath.

"I can't say I like the sound of that."

Dean hustled them out of the warehouse, he was worried about Sam and now they had found the likely source of the sigil's power, he was desperate to get out of there. Not to mention he really did not want any of more of those giant bugs showing up. Gabriel insisted on carrying the chest, not wanting to risk either Winchester being exposed to the stone. Cas was waiting for them by the fence and his eyes went wide when he saw what Gabriel was carrying.

"Gabriel!" he gasped. "Is that…?" The archangel gave a curt nod.

"Yes. I don't know where Metatron got it, or why he was keeping it here so lightly guarded but let's figure that out after we get the fuck out of here."

* * *

Gabriel had been adamant that they could not afford to delay a single moment before getting the box back to the bunker. But after thirteen hours of driving, Dean was clearly too fatigued to continue. Cas laid one hand on his arm.

"Let me take over for a bit, Dean. Or let me wake Sam if you don't trust me to drive your car." Dean looked over at the angel blearily.

"It's not that I don't trust you, it's just she's a handful for an inexperienced driver, that's all. I'll wake Sam." He pulled over to the side of the road. Gabriel's eyes popped open.

"I thought I said we shouldn't stop," he said grumpily. Cas' eyes flashed.

"Dean is exhausted. We're going to wake Sam and have him drive for a bit." Gabriel poked at Sam, who was curled up in his lap. He muttered and raised his head.

"Feel up to driving, Sammy?" Gabriel asked. Sam looked confused.

"Uh, sure. Give me a moment to wake up." Gabriel twitched, and Sam stared at him. "Are you OK?"

"We've got the Heavenly equivalent of an atomic bomb in the trunk. Why would I be worried?" Gabriel said snarkily. "Castiel, are you coming back here with Dean?" The angel nodded and climbed out of the car, before coming around and assisting Dean out of the driver's seat. Sam rubbed a hand over his face and climbed in, and flashed a quick grin at Gabriel as he slid in the passenger side.

Gabriel didn't relax even when they were moving again. Sam watched him out of the corner of his eye. He'd only ever seen the archangel like this once before, at a fancy motel on a deserted highway. Well, it would be a few more hours until they were home, and he just needed to concentrate on that. Flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror, Dean was out cold in the backseat, leaning against Cas like it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam wondered how it was possible for the angel to look like he was in both Heaven and Hell at the same time.

* * *

The car was quiet except for the occasional snore from Dean in the backseat. Cas had his head tilted back and his eyes were closed. Sam knew he couldn't be asleep but maybe he was meditating or something. Gabriel was asleep,  _he slept a lot for angel,_  Sam thought  _but maybe that's because his Grace is still low_. They'd have to discuss that at some point. The road was empty, Sam hadn't encountered another car in several miles. He hated this, driving at night on featureless roads that could lull the unwary driver into a sort of fugue state. He wondered if he should wake Gabriel, having someone to talk to could help break up the monotony, but the archangel looked so peaceful Sam didn't have the heart to disturb him.

"Hello, Sam," Lucifer's voice broke the quiet and Sam swerved in shock. He wrestled the car back under control, and shot a look to his right. Lucifer was lounging in the space between him and Gabriel, which should not really have been comfortable but he seemed happy enough.

"What are you doing here?" Sam hissed.  _Shit, had he fallen asleep at the wheel?_

"You're not asleep, don't worry." Lucifer told him. "This is a kind of projection in your mind, that's all." Sam did not feel comforted.

"How is that possible?" Lucifer gave him a lazy grin and stretched out his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers trailing along Sam's shoulders.

"You're close to my heart, Sam." he replied. Sam gulped. "So where are we going, in such a hurry and so late at night?"

"Home," Sam said shortly. He didn't know if Lucifer knew about the bunker, or where it was but he wasn't going to risk revealing something unintentionally.

"How are you feeling, Sam?" the fallen archangel inquired.

"OK, I guess. I'm a little tired, but I'll live." Lucifer nodded and kept his gaze fixed on Sam.

"I thought you might like to talk," he said. "Long drives at night are boring." Sam shot him a quick glance before answering.

"What did you want to talk about?" Lucifer hesitated in an uncharacteristic fashion, as if he were nervous.

"Did you think about what we spoke about before?" His tone was soft and brittle. Sam felt a twinge of compassion.

"I haven't had much of a chance to fully think it over," he told the archangel. "But, yeah, it's been on my mind. Dean made much the same point to me a couple of days ago, when we talked to Metatron."  _Dammit, he shouldn't have mentioned that._

"Metatron?" Lucifer's face was curious, but his tone was vicious. "Why were you talking to that rat-faced little maggot?" Sam couldn't help but laugh,  _did Metatron piss off everyone he met?_  Lucifer looked unimpressed.

"Sorry, I guess he really knows how to alienate people. I've yet to meet anyone who likes him," Sam explained. He swallowed, suddenly glad that the fact he was driving meant he didn't have to look Lucifer in the eye. "We were trying to figure out how to pry out this piece of your Grace in my soul without destroying my soul in the process."  _Fucking Hell, why was he telling Lucifer this?_

"Really? And what did rat-boy suggest?" Lucifer asked calmly.

"Uh, I probably shouldn't tell you that." Sam hedged. Lucifer shifted closer, his thigh pressed against Sam's leg. He trailed his fingers over Sam's shoulders and up his neck, cupping his hand on the back of Sam's head. His fingers curled lazily in Sam's hair, sending shivery sensations across Sam's skin.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," the archangel said huskily. "But I'd like it if you'd trust me enough to talk to me." Sam felt a little breathless, an unnameable feeling tugging in his chest.

"Metatron said Gabriel could supplant your Grace with his, by forming a Nexus." Sam admitted. Lucifer gasped and when Sam dared shoot him a glance, the archangel was staring at him utterly appalled.

"Tell me you're not considering this, Sam!" Lucifer demanded, his voice shaking with horror. Sam gulped, he had not expected the archangel to be so upset. Or rather he'd expected anger, not distress.

"I-I was," he confessed. Tears were shimmering in Lucifer's eyes, he realized with another look.

"Sam, please. Please, don't do this. If you really want to be free of my Grace, I'll figure out a way to do it. But don't allow Gabriel to form a Nexus with you," he begged and Sam began to feel stirrings of alarm. "You'll never be free again. You'll surrender everything that makes you beautiful, that makes you, you. A bonding is bad enough. A Nexus? You know they are forbidden? I do not agree with my Father on many things, but on this he was correct." Lucifer broke off with a sob. Sam's hands tightened on the steering wheel, the archangel's anguish tearing at him.  _Holy crap, what the Hell was going on here?_

"Lucifer?" he said gently. "I-I didn't mean to upset you." He took one hand off the wheel and slid it across the archangel's shoulders, pulling him into his body. Lucifer clung to him, head buried in his chest, shivering and making small pained noises.  _Fuck._  After a few moments, the archangel raised his head, determination shining in his eyes.

"You want me to remove my Grace from your soul? I'll do it. I'll find a way. Because I love you Sam, and if this is what you want, I will find a way to make it happen." Sam blinked and Lucifer was gone. He stared at the road, turning the conversation over in his mind. Gabriel huffed out a breath and shifted in his seat. Sam glanced at him for a moment. Dean had been on to something when he'd drawn Sam's attention to how quickly he'd fallen into a relationship with Gabriel, to the point of being willing to allow him to form this Nexus, irrevocably binding them together and ceding all control of his life over to him. Sam sucked in a breath. It had not seemed so bad when Gabriel had first explained it to him. Now, in the face of Lucifer's distress it seemed insane. No wonder Dean had flipped his lid. What the Hell had he been thinking?


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They take the lapsit exillis back to the bunker. Castiel is worried.

Sam nudged the Impala into it's usual parking space and climbed out of the car. His head was throbbing with tiredness and stress, and he slammed the door a little harder than necessary, jolting Gabriel and Dean awake and causing Cas to jump. Sam didn't care. He slouched towards the door without a word.

"Wait up, Sammy," Gabriel hollered. Sam ignored him. Cas placed a hand on Gabriel's arm.

"Something's up. Let me talk to him." The angel followed Sam out of the garage. Dean rubbed his eyes and struggled out of the backseat.

"What do you want to do with this...thing?" He asked, waving a hand towards the trunk. Gabriel looked seriously at him.

"We need to lock it down as much as we can. We need something with serious warding, not just the protections on the bunker, but additional protections for those of us inside." Dean nodded, the Men of Letters had just the thing.

* * *

Cas dogged Sam's steps all the way back to his room. Finally, when he tried to shut his door in the angel's face, Cas forced the issue and pushed his way into the room.

"Is there a problem here, Sam?" He asked. Sam blinked, the angel's face was stern and forbidding.

"Uh, no. Not really. I'm just really tired." He replied uneasily.

"Indeed. And the conversation in the car?" Sam jerked, how did Cas know about that? He tried to cover his reaction but he was too late. "Sam, I don't know what you were saying because someone was blocking me, but I can guess who you were talking to. Do not take me for a fool. And do not fall for Lucifer's games. He is manipulating you, toying with your fears and emotions to get what he wants from you."

"You've got the wrong idea," Sam sulked. "We were just talking. That's all." Cas' mouth tightened.

"No. There is no 'just talking'. Every word, every sound that comes out of Lucifer's mouth is lies and deception and all designed to twist you into so many knots you no longer know right from wrong or truth from lies." The angel seemed to tower over him, his Grace actually flaring in his eyes. Sam gulped.

"How is that so different from Gabriel, Cas? Hasn't he lied to me, manipulated me, maneuvered me into whatever position suited him, for his own ends? How did I get here? How did I get to the point of surrendering my very self to Gabriel? Dean could see it, tried to warn me but I was so turned around I couldn't think straight. So don't tell me to be wary of Lucifer when Gabriel is exactly the same!" Cas leaned back.  _Oh shit, he was really angry._

"If you have concerns, you should be discussing them with Gabriel. He could have taken your consent as permission as soon as you offered it. He did not. Even now he keeps his Grace low, rather than seek to replenish it, because he is more concerned with your welfare than his own. So I suggest you think about what you are doing and who really has your best interests at heart." With that the angel turned on his heel and stalked out.

* * *

Dean turned the key in the lock of the safe and tucked it in his pocket. The older Winchester looked troubled, Gabriel thought, and with good reason.

"We should find somewhere else to hide it long term." Gabriel mused. "But this will do for now." He followed Dean up to the library. Castiel was at the table, leaning over the surface and breathing heavily.

"Cas?" Dean prompted and the angel looked up, his eyes flat with anger. They softened after a moment.

"Dean, you should get some rest. A few hours in the back of a car is not sufficient." He said stiffly. Dean frowned. He knew when he was being dismissed, but one look at Gabriel's alarmed stance told him he might want to keep out of this. He backed out of the room and left the angels to their argument.

Gabriel sauntered casually over to the table. "Something you want to say to me, bro?" Castiel straightened.

"I apologize, I am not angry with you. Things are much worse than we thought. We might have to consider confining Sam," the angel hissed. Gabriel gaped at him.

"Confining him? You mean like imprisoning him?" Castiel nodded gravely. "Why?"

"When was the last time Sam told you about one of his dreams of Lucifer?" Castiel asked. Gabriel thought about it.

"He had one the day before we went to the warehouse. He fell asleep in the car, I had to wake him up, although he never told me what happened," he frowned. "You think he's had more dreams, ones he hasn't told me about at all?" Castiel's mouth tightened.

"I don't think that.  _I know._ " he growled. Gabriel reeled. Sam was keeping secrets from him? Secrets about Lucifer? He cleared his throat.

"How do you know?"

Castiel looked pained. "In the car, when he was driving. He started having a conversation, addressed to someone only he could see in that space between you and him. I could see he was speaking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying or penetrate the top layer of his mind to see it. Someone was blocking me." Gabriel choked. Lucifer was talking to Sam in his head while he was awake? Castiel was right, this was serious.

"Did you fight with him about it?" he asked. Castiel folded his arms into a very Dean-like stance.

"He was being very difficult. I was trying to warn him but he was not listening. I would prepare yourself, brother. I do not think Sam Winchester is in his right mind."

* * *

Sam lay on the bed and seethed. Who the Hell did Cas think he was? Dismissing him like he didn't have a genuine grievance here. Maybe he  _should_ talk it out with Gabriel, but he was just so tired. It could wait until morning. He turned over, trying to get more comfortable but he was still wired with anger and couldn't settle. He felt the bed dip slightly as someone sat on the edge. He looked up. Lucifer gazed sorrowfully down at him.

"Sam. You really should get some rest." the archangel told him. Sam huffed out a breath and raked his hand through his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm just fed up of everyone telling me what to do!" Sam snarled. "I'm a grown man! I'm tired of everyone second-guessing me all the time. So what if I've made bad decisions in the past, so what if I'm making bad decisions now? That's my right!" Lucifer pulled his legs up on the bed and regarded Sam solemnly.

"Do you want me to argue with you? Play devil's advocate?" Sam laughed despite himself and Lucifer smiled. "There see, I made you laugh. That's better isn't it?" He reached out and carded his hand through Sam's hair. Sam felt himself begin to relax, the anger ebbing away. He gave Lucifer a grateful look.

"Thanks. I mean, I probably shouldn't be thanking you. I should be telling you to go away." he sighed. Lucifer edged closer.

"Do you want me to go away, Sam? Leave you here alone?" Sam twitched, Gabriel would be here soon. Lucifer gave him an easy smile and gestured towards the bedroom door. The lock clicked audibly and Sam swallowed.

"Now, you don't need to worry about being disturbed." He beckoned to Sam and watched the hunter as he sat up. Lucifer slid one hand into Sam's hair and gently coaxed him forward. Sam felt dizzy, he could smell the cool, delicious scent of the archangel and it made him want to taste it. He leaned forward and Lucifer met him halfway, kissing him with soft, sensual kisses that swamped his senses and made him shiver. The archangel kissed a wet trail down his neck and dismissed his shirt with a gesture. Sam groaned. Lucifer kept going, keeping the kisses light and teasing and Sam quivered as that clever mouth gently aroused him until he was gasping and pleading. Another flick of Lucifer's wrist and Sam was bare to him. And that mouth just kept going, lower and lower until Sam wanted to scream.

Sam tugged at Lucifer's arm and the archangel grinned up at him from between his legs. He licked a line up Sam's inner thigh and the younger Winchester nearly arched off the bed. At some point Lucifer had dismissed his own clothes and Sam took a moment to appreciate his flawless pale skin. Then with a sultry look, Lucifer crawled back up his body and clasped Sam's head between his hands. This time the kiss was deep and urgent with need and Sam clawed at the archangel's back.  _God, he wanted this. Needed it. He shouldn't, it was wrong, it was wicked but he wanted it so badly._  He felt Lucifer's fingers slide along his leg, pushing against him to spread his hips wide and he began to tremble. The archangel raised his head.

"Do you want this, Sam?" he breathed, his fingers making his objective plain. Sam bucked his hips in response and tugged the archangel's mouth back to his own.

* * *

Gabriel rocked back in his chair, his feet propped on the table and more bourbon in him than was probably wise. Dean Winchester was a bad influence on him, no doubt. He should go and check on Sam, but his conversation with Castiel had left him so disturbed, he had not yet plucked up the courage. It was not an admirable character trait, but Gabriel was honest enough with himself to admit he was a coward. Too afraid to confront what Lucifer was doing to Sam, he was hiding out here and drinking himself into a more valiant state. Cas had disappeared, disgusted with him. He drew in a long slow breath. Sam would be asleep. He could just slip quietly into his room, no muss, no fuss.

The bunker was silent as Gabriel padded towards Sam's room, so when he approached the door he was startled by the sound of a groan within. His stomach dropped to his knees. He grasped the doorknob and realized to his consternation that it was locked. He swore in Enochian and then tried to muster up enough Grace to turn the latch. It took some effort but finally he heard it snick and the knob turned. He threw open the door. Sam was buried under the covers and he lifted a sleepy head at the sudden noise.

"Gabriel?" he asked blearily. The archangel huffed in relief. Sam was fine and he'd worked himself into a state over nothing. They could talk in the morning.

* * *

When Gabriel awoke, he found himself alone in the bed. Pouting at the lack of opportunity to snuggle with Sam, he pulled himself out of bed and threw on a few clothes. No doubt the young hunter had gone to check his email since his laptop was also missing, but normally he did that in bed while waiting for Gabriel to wake up.

Sam was in the library reading something on his laptop that he dismissed when Gabriel entered the room. Keeping his expression neutral, Gabriel twitched internally. Was Sam hiding something from him or was he just being paranoid?

"I missed you this morning, Sam," Gabriel told him petulantly. Sam beckoned him over and pulled the archangel into his lap.

"Sorry, Gabriel, I was awake and I didn't want to disturb you." Sam gazed into his eyes for a moment then tugged him in for a languorous kiss. Gabriel thrust his hands into Sam's hair, deliberately deepening the kiss and Sam groaned into his mouth. His hands gripped Gabriel's hips and pulled his body closer so that they were crushed tightly against each other, Gabriel grinding against Sam in a rhythm that made his blood pound in his veins. The archangel tugged Sam's head back and nibbled along his jaw before nipping at his ear and continuing down his neck, making Sam gasp and whimper. Gabriel shivered, Sam was hot and wanting this morning and he really ought to stop, but it was getting difficult to concentrate on anything but the incredible feeling of Sam between his legs or the breathy sounds of desire that spilled from his lips. Just as he was battling with himself, he was surprised when he felt Sam begin to retreat, his head turning away.

" _Gabriel…_ " Sam managed breathlessly. "We can't, Gabriel." The archangel leaned back, swallowing and breathing hard.

"Sorry, Sam." He climbed off Sam's lap and threw himself awkwardly into a chair, concentrating on pushing away the thudding need to cast caution to the wind and claim the younger Winchester the way he wanted.

Sam's ragged breathing echoed in the room as he regained control. Once the feeling of heady desire had ebbed, he lifted his head and regarded Gabriel, an uncomfortable twisting sensation in his chest.

"I'm going to go make some coffee." Sam said eventually. "You want some?" Gabriel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He silently watched Sam as he left the room.

* * *

As luck would have it, Dean was already in the kitchen a fresh pot of coffee in his hand. He looked up at Sam, his face pleasant but a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes gave him away.

"Morning, Sam. Coffee?"

"Yeah." Sam pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and placed them on the counter. "Sleep well?" Dean shrugged and looked away. Sam poured a generous serving of caramel creamer into Gabriel's coffee but left his black. He sipped cautiously and smiled at the smooth bitter taste. It had been difficult to convince Dean of the value of buying good coffee but they had few luxuries in life and Dean had soon come around to his point of view.

"So, what did you do with the  _lapsit exillis_  last night?" Sam asked casually. "You didn't leave it in the trunk I assume with Gabriel acting like we had a nuclear weapon in there." Dean's stance shifted in that familiar way that told Sam he'd just stepped onto thin ice. His forehead crinkled,  _what was Dean so jumpy about?_

"It's in a safe place," his brother told him. Sam raked a hand through his hair, and counted to ten.  _Dean was hiding the thing from him? Why?_

"OK. Any reason you don't want me to know where it is?" he asked, keeping his tone level. A muscle ticked in Dean's jaw.

"Well, with Lucifer poking around in your head, we figured you might be safer if you didn't know." Dean replied, looking like he'd just poked a cobra with a stick. Sam swallowed past the bubble of anger that pressed against his throat.

"You don't trust me." he stated. Dean looked down, ashamed,  _as well he should be._

"It's not about trust," Dean argued. "But we don't know how much Lucifer can just pull straight out of your head, that's all. Cas says he'll do anything to get his hands on that stone." Sam clenched his fists. Once again Dean, Cas and Gabriel were making decisions on his behalf.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Hell breaks loose.

_A spoonful of sugar,_

_Just to sweeten the taste,_

_Just to keep you in your place._

_Medicine - The Prodigy_

* * *

Unfortunately for Dean, nobody knew him better than Sam. So it had not been very difficult to come up with a shortlist of places they could have stored the  _lapsit exillis_. He had immediately checked the trunk of the Impala on the pretext of grabbing his duffel bag, although it had seemed unlikely that they would have left it in there. When Dean and Cas said they were going out for supplies, Sam had to resist the urge to immediately jump up and dash off to search Dean's room, since Gabriel was apparently watching him like a hawk. Feeling restless and edgy under the distrust and scrutiny, Sam mumbled something about taking a shower and left Gabriel watching Judge Judy.

Dean had locked his door, Sam realized with a spike of irritation, which he never normally did. But an ordinary lock was no match for Sam's picks. He rolled his eyes, did Dean really think that would keep him out? But there was no sign of the box in his brother's room. Sam sighed, it hadn't really been that likely. But Dean had locked the door for a reason. Acting on instinct, he grabbed the pair of jeans slung carelessly on a chair and checked the pockets. Inside the right pocket were three dollar bills, a handful of change and a large heavy key. Sam grinned, his brother's laziness could always be relied on. This had to be the key to wherever Dean had stashed the  _lapsit exillis_. He cautiously exited Dean's room. If Gabriel caught him in here, he'd know what Sam was up to and Sam was determined not to be thwarted. He jogged to his room, secreted the key under the false bottom of his sock drawer that even Dean didn't know about and headed off to take that shower.

* * *

Gabriel switched off the TV, bored with the inanity of daytime offerings. Sam had been in the shower for quite a while now, maybe he should go and check on him. That plan had the added bonus of coming across him wet and naked, he thought with a grin. But he was out of luck, Sam had already dressed and was towelling his damp hair when Gabriel strolled into his room. He flashed a leer at him anyway.

"I was hoping to catch you before you got dressed," he grinned at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and drew him in for a kiss. But his heart didn't seem in it, and Gabriel pulled back. "You OK, Sammy?" he asked, holding his gaze. Something cunning moved behind Sam's eyes and Gabriel gave a sharp intake of breath. But then Sam blinked, and Gabriel wondered if he'd imagined it.

"I'm fine," Sam said. "A little stressed maybe." Gabriel continued to watch him closely.

"And we're OK? You seemed kinda...unhappy last night," he probed.

"I'm still processing everything that's happened. Dean's accusations that I'm behaving strangely hurt, y'know. I don't know that he's ever truly forgiven me for what happened with Ruby, even all these years later. Or if he has forgiven me, then it hasn't translated into trusting me. It's frustrating when people say they love you but they don't trust you." Sam's mouth twisted into an unhappy grimace. Gabriel relented, maybe they were being too hard on the kid. Castiel's suspicions seemed justified but maybe they were all seeing something that wasn't there because of Sam's history. He gave a casual gesture he didn't quite feel.

"OK, Sam. Fair enough. I'm gonna go raid the freezer for some ice cream. You coming?" Sam gave him a warm smile.

"Sure. Give me twenty minutes to dry my hair and I'll come find you."

* * *

It wouldn't take anything like twenty minutes to dry his hair, but Gabriel couldn't know that. That gave him fifteen minutes to search the basement when hopefully the archangel wouldn't be checking up on him. There were two safes that were heavily warded down there. The key  _had_ to fit one of those.

It took a matter of seconds to figure out which safe the key fit, and Sam turned it with a smirk of triumph. He opened the door and quivered when he saw the gorgeous carved ebony box. It was strange, he had not remembered it being quite so large, in fact it shouldn't really fit inside this safe at all. He pulled it out and laid on the table beside him. He could hear something distantly, like music but not really music at all. It gave him a fluttering sensation in his chest and he began to feel excitement curling in his stomach. Whatever this thing was, it wanted to speak to him, he could feel it calling to him.

He gently lifted the lid and stared down at the stone, nestled in its shroud of white silk. It was a deeper green than anything Sam had ever seen, and in the center a dark shape twisted and coiled lazily. He could hear faint whispering and shivering with anticipation, he reached out and stroked one finger gently across the surface of the stone. It felt like fire and ice, like defeat and victory, like love and hate and the thrill of watching another's life spill across his hands. He drew in a shuddering breath and listened.

* * *

Since he would only consume the entire container of ice cream once he got started, Gabriel decided it probably wasn't a good idea to wait in the kitchen. Instead, he headed to the library and helped himself to some of Dean's bourbon. When twenty minutes had passed and Sam had still not reappeared, the archangel resisted the urge to go hunting for the kid. He'd just promised himself he was going to ignore Castiel's overblown theories and give Sam the benefit of the doubt. After all, perhaps Sam had intended to talk about the other dreams of Lucifer, but they were so disturbing he had needed some time and distance first. And Castiel throwing suspicion on him when he was tired from the long drive, of course he had reacted badly. He swallowed, if he was trying to convince himself, he wasn't doing a very good job.

One of the bunker's alarms suddenly shattered the quiet, a clanging insistent sound. Dean's voice was bellowing in the hallway. He groaned. What new crisis had descended now? He dragged himself towards the noise. Dean was a mess, he threw one look into the room before lunging forward and grabbing Gabriel by the shoulders.

"Where the Hell is Sam?" he demanded. Gabriel stared at him in consternation.

"I have no idea. What's going on?" Dean dragged him out of the library and down the hall to the kitchen. It looked like a whirlwind had blown through. Cups lay smashed on the floor, the coffee pot was overturned and a pool of coffee spread over the counter. Bags of groceries on the counter had been knocked over or spilled onto the floor and on the door of the fridge was the remains of an angel banishment sigil.

Dean shoved two cellphones at Gabriel. "That one's Cas' phone. I found it under the table. Someone banished him and now I have no way of finding him. And where the Hell is Sam? The other phone is his, I found it here on the counter. This bunker is impenetrable. We have wards against everything!"

"Except angels." Gabriel said softly. Dean glared at him. "So? You think an angel broke in, banished Cas and kidnapped Sam?" Gabriel frowned.

"Something like that. I need to go check something" He dashed out of the room, and flung himself down the stairs to the basement. The safe was open, papers and other items spilling out onto the floor. Dean appeared behind him, slightly out of breath.

"Just as I thought," Gabriel said heavily. "The  _lapsit exillis_  is gone too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who's been reading, commenting and leaving kudos. I'm sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger but there are reasons why I had to break this fic at this point. I hope you'll all follow the story on to Part Two of the Gracelight series, Bitter Medicine.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic - please be gentle :-) but reviews are love!


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